3 


THE 

MORAL  ECONOMY 


BY 

RALPH  BARTON  PERRY 

Assistant  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Harvard  University 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


PREFACE 

THIS  little  book  is  the  preliminary  sketch  of  a 
system  of  ethics.  Its  form  differs  from  that  of 
most  contemporary  books  on  the  subject  because 
of  the  omission  of  the  traditional  controversies. 
I  have  attempted  to  study  morality  directly,  to 
derive  its  conceptions  and  laws  from  an  analysis 
of  life.JJ  I  have  made  this  attempt  because,  in  the 
firsTplace,  I  believe  that  theoretical  ethics  is  seri- 
ously embarrassed  by  its  present  emphasis  on  the 
history  and  criticism  of  doctrines;  by  its  failure 
to  resort  to  experience,  where  without  more  ado 
it  may  solve  its  problems  on  their  merits.  ^But,  in 
the  second  place,  I  hope  that  by  appealing  to  ex- 
perience and  neglecting  scholastic  technicalities, 
I  may  connect  ethical  theory  with  every-day  re- 
flection on  practical  matters.  Morality  is,  with- 
out doubt,  the  most  human  and  urgent  of  all  topics 
of  study;  and  I  should  like,  if  possible,  to  make 
it  appear  so. 

The  references  which  I  have  embodied  in  the 
notes  are  intended  to  serve  the  English  reader  as 
an  introduction  to  accessible  and  untechnical  lit- 
erature on  the  subjects  treated  in  the  several  chap- 


viii  PREFACE 

ters.    These  chapters  coincide  with  the  main 
divisions  of  ethical   inquiry:    Goodness,   Duty, 
Virtue,  Progress,  Culture,  and  Religion.     And 
.          although  so  brief  a  treatment  of  so  large  a  pro- 
'  x       gramme  is  impossible  without  sacrifice  of  thor- 
oughness, it  does  provide  both  a  general  survey 
of  the  field,  and  a  varied  application  of  certain 
fundamental  ideas. 

RALPH  BARTON  PERRY. 

CAMBRIDGE,  1909. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

MORALITY  AS  THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE       i 

I.      THE  GENERAL  CLAIMS  OF  MORALITY     .  I 

The  practical  necessity  of  morality,  i.  The  interplay 
of  dogmatism  and  scepticism,  4.  The  fundamental 
character  of  morality,  7. 

II.      GOODNESS  IN  GENERAL 9 

The  dependence  of  value  on  life,  9.  Definition  of  the 
simpler  terms  of  value.  Goodness:  the  fulfilment  of  in- 
terest, ii.  "Good"  and  "good  for,"  12. 

m.      MORAL  GOODNESS 13 

The  moral  organization  of  life,  13.  Definition  of  the 
terms  of  moral  value.  Moral  goodness :  the  fulfilment  of 
an  economy  of  interests,  15.  Moral  goodness  and  pleas- 
ure, 1 6.  Rightness  or  virtue,  18.  Morality  and  life,  19. 

IV.      MORALITY  AND  NATURE       ....         2O 

The  alleged  artificiality  of  morality,  20.  Morality  and 
the  struggle  for  existence,  21.  Morality  and  adapta- 
tion, 22.  Morality  is  natural  if  life  is,  24. 

V.     MORALITY  AND  CONFLICT    ....        24 

Morality  and  competitive  struggle.  Morality  the  con- 
dition of  strength,  24.  The  value  of  conflict,  25. 
The  elimination  of  conflict,  26.  Morality  and  the  love 
of  life.  27. 

VL      THE  DIGNITY  AND   LUSTRE   OF    MO- 
RALITY       28 

The  effect  of  war  on  sentiment  and  the  imagination,  28. 
Real  power  is  conductive,  not  destructive  or  repress- 
ix 


CONTENTS 

ivc,  ^y.  Moral  heroism,  31.  The  saving  or  provident 
character  of  morality,  32.  Morality  and  the  consum- 
mation of  life,  33. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL    .    .      34 

I.    THE  STAND-POINT  OF  RATIONALISM 

AND  INDIVIDUALISM       ....      34 

Modern  individualism,  34.  Distinguished  from  scepti- 
cism, 36.  The  individual  as  the  organ  of  knowledge, 
37.  Moral  individualism  as  a  protest  against  convejx- 
tion,  39.  Duty  as  the  rational  ground  of  action,  40. 
Reasonableness  a  condition  of  the  consciousness  of 
duty,  41. 

H.      THE  LOGIC  OF  PRUDENCE  ....         43 

Prudence  as  elementary,  43.  Interest,  action,  and  good- 
ness, 43.  The  alleged  relativity  of  goodness,  45.  The 
conflict  of  interests  solved  by  conciliation,  48.  The 
limits  of  prudence,  49. 

III.  THE     LOGIC     OF     PREFERENCE     AND 

PURPOSE 50 

The  adoption  of  new  interests  and  the  problem  of  pref- 
erence, 50.  A  hypothetical  solution  of  the  problem,  51. 
Solution  in  the  concrete  case  through  the  organization 
of  a  purpose,  53.  The  principle  of  the  objective  validity 
of  interests,  54.  The  principle  of  the  quantitative  basis 
of  preference,  55. 

IV.  THE     LOGIC    OF    IMPARTIALITY    AND 

JUSTICE 57 

The  private  interest,  57.  The  personal  factor  negligible 
in  counting  interests,  58.  The  refutation  of  egoism. 
The  first  proposition  of  egoism,  59.  The  second  prop- 
osition of  egoism,  61.  Impartiality  as  a  part  of  justice, 
63.  Justice  as  imputing  finality  to  the  individual,  64. 
The  equality  of  rational  beings  as  organs  of  truth,  64. 
Summary  of  justice,  66. 


CONTENTS  xi 


PAGE 


V.      THE   LOGIC   OF   GOOD-WILL       ...         67 

All  interests  are  entitled  to  consideration,  67.     Good- 
will and  the  growth  of  new  interests,  67. 

VI.      DUTY  AND   THE   IMAGINATION       .      .        69 

The  logical  imagination,  69.     Rationalism  and  incentive 
to  action,  70.    Rationalism  and  faith,  71. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE 72 

I.    THE   VIRTUES    AND    THEIR    CLAS- 
SIFICATION   72 

Summary  of  .'he  content  and  logic  of  moral  value,  72. 
Virtues  as  verified  rules  of  life,  73.  The  material  and 
formal  aspects  of  morality,  74.  Materialism  and  form- 
alism due  to  exaggeration,  75.  The  general  impor- 
tance of  the  conflict  between  the  material  and  formal 
motives,  76.  Duty  identified  with  the  formal  motive, 
76.  Formalism  less  severely  condemned,  77.  The  five 
economies  of  interest,  77.  Summary  of  virtues  and 
vices,  79.  Table,  81. 

II.      THE  ECONOMY   OF    THE    SIMPLE   IN- 
TEREST      

The  simple  interest  not  a  moral  economy,  82.  Satis- 
faction the  root -value,  and  intelligence  the  elementary 
virtue,  82.  Incapacity,  83.  Overindulgence  the  first 
form  of  materialism,  84.  It  is  due  to  lack  of  foresight, 
85.  Or  to  the  complexity  of  interests,  86.  Overindul- 
gence as  the  original  sin,  86. 

III.      THE  RECIPROCITY  OF  INTERESTS         .        87 

Prudence  as  a  principle  of  organization,  87.  Modera- 
tion and  thrift,  87.  Honesty,  veracity,  and  tact  of  the 
prudential  form,  88.  The  inherent  value  of  the  pru- 
dential economy.  Individual  and  social  health,  88. 
Temperance  and  reason,  90.  *  Prudential  formalism,  or 
asceticism,  92.  Asceticism  illustrated  by  the  Cynics, 
92.  Prudential  materialism  or  sordidness,  94.  Aimless- 
ness  or  idleness,  94. 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

IV.      THE  INCORPORATION  OF  INTERESTS  .        95 

Purpose  as  a  principle  of  organization.  Its  intel- 
lectual character,  95.  The  virtues  subsidiary  to  pur- 
pose, 95.  Truthfulness  in  the  purposive  economy,  96. 
The  value  of  achievement,  97.  The  formalistic  error 
of  sentimentalism,  98.  Deferred  living,  98.  National- 
ism, 99.  Egoism  and  bigotry  as  types  of  materialism. 
The  pride  of  opinion,  100.  Egoism  and  bigotry  involve 
injustice,  103.  The  meaning  of  injustice,  103. 

V.      THE  FRATERNITY  OF  INTERESTS  .      .      105 

Justice  as  a  principle  of  organization,  105.  Justice  con- 
ditions rational  intercourse,  105.  Discussion,  freedom, 
and  tolerance,  106.  Anarchism  and  scepticism,  107. 
Laissez-faire,  108.  Justice  and  materialism.  Worldli- 
ness,  no.  Ancient  worldliness  due  to  lack  of  pity,  no. 
Modern  worldliness  due  to  lack  of  imagination,  in. 

VI.      THE  UNIVERSAL  SYSTEM   OF   INTER- 
ESTS      112] 

The  economy  of  good-will,  112.  Good-will  as  the 
condition  of  real  happiness.  Paganism  and  Christianity, 
113.  Merely  formal  good-will  is  mysticism,  1 16.  Mys- 
ticism perverts  life  by  denying  this  world,  118.  Quiet- 
ism, 119.  Mystical  perversion  of  moral  truth,  120. 

VH.      SUMMARY 121 

The  interworking  of  the  formal  and  the  material  prin- 
ciples, 121.  Importance  of  the  formal  principle.  Man- 
ners and  worship,  121. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS  ....    123 
I.    THE  GENERAL  THEORY  OF  PROGRESS    123 

The  philosophy  of  history,  123.  The  meaning  of  prog- 
ress, 125.  Progress  and  the  quantitative  basis  of  pref- 
erence, 127.  The  method  of  superimposition  as  a  test 
of  progress,  127. 


CONTENTS  xiii 


H.     THE  EXTERNAL  AND  INTERNAL  PRIN- 
CIPLES OF  PROGRESS 130 

The  external  principle:  the  pressure  of  an  unfavorable 
environment,  130.  The  external  and  the  internal  prin- 
ciple, 131.  The  internally  progressive  type  of  society.  ^ 

The  importance  of  discussion,  132.  Rationality  the 
internal  principle  of  progress,  134.  The  positive  mo- 
tive: constructive  reform,  134.  Disinterested"  reflection 
and  the  man  of  affairs,  136.  Success  depends  on  moral 
capacity,  137.  The  negative  motive:  revolution,  139. 
Christianity  as  a  social  revolution,  140.  The  French 
Revolution,  141.  Dependence  of  progress  on  the  his- 
torical connectedness  of  human  life,  143. 

III.  CONSERVATISM   AND   RADICALISM       .      144 

Conservatism  values  the  existing  order,  144.  Progress 
requires  the  maintenance  and  use  of  order,  145.  The 
real  radical  not  the  sceptic  but  the  rationalist,  145.  The 
justification  of  the  radical,  146. 

IV.  PROGRESS    IN    THE     INSTITUTION    OF 

GOVERNMENT 147 

Institutions  are  permanent  moral  necessities,  147.  Gov- 
ernment as  the  interest  both  of  the  weak  and  of  the 
strong,  148.  The  moral  necessity  of  government,  150. 
The  variable  and  progressive  factor  in  government, 
151.  The  principle  of  rationality  in  government,  152. 
The  benefits  and  cost  of  government  in  the  ancient 
military  monarchy,  152.  Solidarity  of  interest  in  the 
Greek  and  Roman  oligarchies,  154.  Advance  in  liber- 
ality in  Athenian  institutions,  156.  The  development 
of  modern  institutions,  157.  The  modern  idea  of  de- 
mocracy, 158.  Summary  of  the  modern  state.  It  is 
1 1  territ£nal  and*tmpersonal,  160.  The  representative 
method,  160.  Empfiasis  on  internal  policy  and  inter- 
national peace,  162. 

V.      THE  QUALITY  OF  CONTEMPORARY  LIB- 
ERALISM     163 

Democracy  based  not  on  pity  but  on  enlightenment, 
163.  The  respect  for  the  opinion  of  those  most  inter- 
ested, 164.  The  spirit  of  modern  justice,  165.  Sensi- 
tiveness to  life,  166.  The  allowance  for  growth,  167. 


xiv  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  individual  and  the  crowd,  168.  Hopefulness  and 
the  bias  of  maturity,  169.  The  work  done  and  the 
work  to  do,  170. 

CHAPTER  V 
THE  MORAL  CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART     .    .    171 

I.      THE  JUSTIFICATION  OF  THE  MORAL 

CRITICISM  OF  ART 171 

The  higher  activities  of  civilization,  171.  The  attempt 
to  apply  aesthetic  standards  to  life,  172.  The  claim  of 
art  to  exemption  from  moral  criticism  is  based  on  mis- 
apprehension. Morality  not  a  special  interest,  but  the 
fundamental  interest,  174.  Morality  does  not  substi- 
tute its  canons  for  those  of  art,  175. 

II.      DEFINITION    OF  ART  AND  THE    ES- 
THETIC INTEREST 176 

Art  as  the  adaptation  of  the  environment  to  interest, 
176.  Industrial  art  and  fine  art,  177.  The  aesthetic 
interest:  the  interest  in  apprehension,  179.  The  inter- 
est in  sensation  and  perception,  181.  The  emotional 
interest,  182.  Instinct  and  emotion  in  the  aesthetic  ex- 
perience. Poetry  and  music,  183.  The  interest  in 
discernment,  185.  The  representative  element  in  art 
exemplified  in  Greek  sculpture,  185.  And  in  Italian 
painting  of  the  Renaissance,  187.  Levels  and  blendings 
of  the  aesthetic  interest,  189.  The  moral  criticism  of 
the  aesthetic  interest,  190. 

m.      THE  SELF-SUFFICIENCY  OF  THE  AES- 
THETIC INTEREST 192 

The  aesthetic  interest  is  capable  of  continuous  develop- 
ment, 192.  And  is  resourceful,  192.  But  tends  on  that 
account  to  be  narrow  and  quiescent,  192. 

IV.      THE    PERVASIVENESS    OF    THE    AES- 
THETIC INTEREST 194 

The  aesthetic  interest  may  supply  interest  where  there 
is  none,  or  enhance  other  interests,  194.  But  it  must 
not  be  allowed  to  replace  other  interests,  195. 


CONTENTS  xv 

PAGE 

V.      THE  VICARIOUS  FUNCTION    OF  THE 

/ESTHETIC  INTEREST       ....      197 

Other  interests  may  be  represented  by  the  aesthetic 
interest,  197.  The  danger  of  confusing  vicarious  fulfil- 
ment with  real  fulfilment,  198.  And  of  being  aesthetic- 
ally satisfied  with  failure,  199. 

VI.      ART  AS   A  MEANS   OF   STIMULATING 

ACTION    .........      201 

Art  is  a  source  of  motor  excitation,  201.  But  such  ex- 
citation is  morally  indeterminate,  201.  Such  influences 
must  be  selected  with  reference  to  their  effecton-moral 
purpose,  202. 

VII.      ART  AS  A  MEANS   OF  FIXING  IDEAS      203 

The  higher  practical  ideas  have  no  other  concrete  em- 
bodiment than  art,  203.  Art  both  fixes  ideas  and  arouses 
sentiment  in  their  behalf,  204.  But  if  art  is  to  serve  this 
end  it  must  be  true,  205.  Untruth  in  art,  206.  Uni- 
versality and  particularity  in  art,  207.  Art  may  invest 
ideas  with  a  fictitious  value,  208. 

VIII.      THE      LIBERALITY      OF       THE      AES- 

THETIC INTEREST       .....      209 

Art  is  unworldly,  209.  The  aesthetic  intercourse  pro- 
motes social  intercourse  on  a  high  plane,  210. 

IX.      CONCLUSION     ........      212 


l,  art  may  make  the  en- 
vironment harmonious  with  morai 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MORAL  JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION  .    214 
I.    THE  DEFINITION  OF  RELIGION   .    .    214 

The  sound  practical  motive  in  religion,  214.     Religion 
as  belief,  216.     Summary  definition  of  religion,  218. 


xvi  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

II.  THE  TESTS  OF  RELIGION  ..  .  .  .  2l8 
The  measure  of  religion,  extensive  and  intensive,  218. 
The  test  of  truth  the  fundamental  test,  220.  The  thera- 
peutic test,  and  its  confusion  of  the  issue,  222.  The 
two  forms  of  the  truth  test,  cosmological  and  ethical, 
224.  The  working  of  these  critical  principles,  226. 
Cosmology  and  ethics  are  independent  of  religion,  228. 
The  optimistic  bias.  231.  Summary  of  religious  de- 
velopment, 231. 

III.  SUPERSTITION 232 

The  prudential  character  of  superstition,  232.  The 
ethical  idea  in  primitive  religion,  233.  The  cosmo- 
logical idea,  234.  The  method  of  primitive  religion, 
235.  Superstition  in  Christianity,  235.  The  ethical 
and  cosmological  correction  of  superstition,  236. 

IV.  TUTELARY  RELIGION 237 

The  deity  identified  with  the  purpose  of  the  worshipper, 
237.  The  national  religion  of  the  Assyrians  and  Egyp- 
tians, 238.  The  correction  of  tutelary  religion,  239. 

V.      PHILOSOPHICAL    RELIGION.        META- 
PHYSICAL IDEALISM 241 

Religion  formally  enlightened,  241.  Metaphysical  and 
moral  idealism,  242.  The  inherent  difficulty  in  meta- 
physical idealism,  242.  The  swing  from  formalism  to 
materialism.  Pessimism,  other -worldliness,  mysticism, 
panlogism  and  aesthetic  idealism,  243.  /Esthetic  ideal- 
ism falsifies  experience  and  discredits  mofaT*  distinc- 
tions, 246. 

VI.      MORAL  IDEALISM 248 

Moral  idealism  reflects  moral  judgment,  248.  Evil  real 
but  not  deliberately  perpetrated.  The  knowledge  of 
evil,  249.  The  ground  of  moral  idealism,  252. 

VII.      THE  GENERIC  VALUE  OF  RELIGION    .      252 

Religion  morally  inevitable,  252.  The  value  of  the 
religious  generalization  of  life,  253.  The  immediate 
reward  of  service,  254.  Religion  and  moral  enthusi- 
asm, 254.  Culture  and  religion,  255. 

NOTES 257 

INDEX 263 


THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 


CHAPTER  I 

MORALITY  AS  THE  ORGANIZATION 
OF  LIFE 


IN  the  words  with  which  this  book  is  inscribed, 
Bishop  Butler  conveys  with  directness  and  grav- 
ity the  conviction  that  morality  is  neither  a  mys- 
tery nor  a  convention,  but  simply  an  observance 
of  the  laws  ofjrovident  living.  "Things  and 
afctions  afe^wTiaMrhey  are,  and  the  consequences 
of  them  will  be  what  they  will  be  :  why  then  should 
we  desire  to  be  deceived?"1  This  appeal,  com- 
monplace enough,  but  confident  and  true,  sounds 
the  note  with  which  through  all  that  follows  I  shall 
hope  to  keep  in  unison. 

It  is  because  he  professes  to  believe  that  moral- 
ity is  an  imposture  that  must  be  smuggled  into 
society  behind  the  back  of  reason,  that  Nietsche 
makes  a  merit  of  its  dulness.  "It  is  desirable," 
he  says,  "that  as  few  people  as  possible  should 
reflect  upon  morals,  and  consequently  it  is  very 
desirable  that  morals  should  not  some  day  be- 
come interesting!"2  He  confesses  that  he  sees 
no  occasion  for  alarm!  But  the  dulness  of 


2  THE  MORAU  ECONOMY 

morality  testifies  only  to  itsJaomeliness  and  an- 
tiquity. For  to  be  moral  is  simply  to  be  intelli- 
gent^ to  be  right-minded  and  open-minded  in 
the  unavoidable  business  of  living.  Morality 
is  a  collection  of  formulas  and^models  based 
solidly  on  experience,  of  acts  and  their  conse- 
uences; it  oilers  trie  most  competent  advice  as 
to  proceed  with  an  enterprise,  whether 
large  or  small.  It  is  the  theory  and  technique 
which  underlies  the  art  of  conduct;  that  "  master- 
workman,"  by  whom  kings  reign  and  princes 
decree  justice;  possessed  by  the  Lord  in  the  be- 
ginning of  his  way,  and  whom  to  hate  is  to  love 
death. 

It  is  worth  while  to  remark  and  proclaim  such 
a  conviction  as  this  only  because  mankind  has  so 
treacherous  a  memory,  and  so  fatuous  a  habit  of 
disowning  its  most  precious  and  dearly  won  pos- 
sessions. Cardinal  truths  are  periodically  overlaid 
with  sophistication,  blended  with  tentative  opinion, 
and  identified  with  the  instruments  of  the  day. 
There  results  a  confusion  of  mind  that  fails  to 
distinguish  the  essence  from  the  accident,  and 
'aims  to  destroy  where  there  is  need  to  rectify. 
Because  government  is  clumsy  and  costly,  it  is 
proposed  to  abolish  government;  because  edu- 
cation is  artificial  and  constraining,  society  is 
exhorted  to  return  to  the  easy  course  of  nature; 
metaphysics  must  be  swept  away,  because  the 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE       3 

metaphysics  of  some  time  or  school  has  outlived 
its  usefulness;  and  morality,  because  it  is  hard 
or  tiresome,  must  give  way  to  the  freedom_ahd 
romance  of  no  morality.  Such  blind  and  irre- 
sponsible agitation  is  a  perpetual  menace  to  the 
balance  of  impressionable  and  unsteady  minds, 
if  not  indeed  to  the  work  of  civilization. 

Now  it  is  safe  to  say  that  these  venerable  in- 
stitutions have  arisen  in  answer  to  fixed  needs; 
needs  implied  in  life  as  a  general  and  constant 
situation.  There  is  no  other  way  of  accounting 
for  them.  They  have  been  tolerated  only  be- 
cause they  yield  a  steady  return.  Their  loss 
would  be  a  catastrophe  which  mankind,  obedient 
to  the  necessities  of  life,  would  fall  at  once  to 
repairing.  Institutions  are  the  very  body  of 
civilization;  and  while  they  may  grow  and  change 
without  limit,  if  they  be  abruptly  destroyed  civil- 
ization must  suffer  paralysis  in  some  vital  part. 
At  once  the  most  direct  and  striking  proof  of  this 
lies  in  the  fact  that  the  revolutionist,  whether  he 
be  propagandist  or  man  of  action,  invariably 
commits  himself,  and  ends  by  executing  the  very 
function  he  denied.  At  the  moment  when  he 
comes  to  close  quarters,  and  actually  engages 
the  object  of  his  attack,  he  is  swept  into  some 
current  of  endeavor  that  has  from  the  most 
ancient  times  been  pressing  steadily  toward  the 
solution  of  a  problem  that  lies  in  the  centre  of 


4  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

' 

the  path  of  life.  He  straightway  commences 
himself  to  govern,  educate,  speculate, -or  moral- 
ize]And  the  more  patiently  he  labors,  the  greater 
his  respect  for  the  vested  wisdom  of  his  time. 
Whereas  he  first  sought  utterly  to  demolish,  he 
is  now  content  to  make  his  little  difference  and 
hand  on  the  work.  In  the  end  every  purely  de- 
structive programme  is  inevitably  futile,  because 
it  goes  against  the  grain.  For  all  conduct  is 
constructive  in  motive,  and  forward  in  direction. 
BufllUvv  vwisteful  is  the  momentary  fury — waste- 
ful of  high  passion  and  distinguished  capacity, 
and  how  mystifying  to  the  lay  intelligence! 

It  may,  of  course,  be  said  that  there  is  method 
in  this  madness;  since  man's  twofold  blindness, 
his  dogmatism  and  jhis  scepticism,  his  immo- 
bility ancHiis  wantonness,  term  m  the  long  run 
to  neutralize  one  another.  But  with  the  per- 
spective required  for  such  consolation,  neither 
the  agencies  of  destruction  nor  those  of  obstruc- 
tion preserve  the  same  heroic  proportions  which 
they  are  wont  to  assume  in  their  day.  They 
seem  to  be  engaged  in  a  sort  of  by-play,  and  wear 
an  unmistakable  aspect  of  childishness.  Lo! 
Mankind  has  been  a  long  time  on  his  way,  and 
endures  hardily  the  prospect  of  endless  leagues 
to  go.  He  is  the  Patient  Plodder,  symbol  of 
mature  intelligence.  And  he  has  in  his  com- 
pany two  small  boys  who  exhibit  an  incorrigible 


THE   ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE       5 

naughtiness.  The  one  of  these  is  called  Destruc- 
tion; his  other  names  being  Cynic,  Sceptic,  and 
Nihilist.  He  it  is  that  mocks  and  cries,  "Go  up, 
thou  bald  head!  go  up,  thou  bald  head!"  Man- 
kind does  not  curse  him  in  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
but  invites  him  to  play  with  another  small  boy, 
named  Obstruction,  and  whose  other  names  are 
Vested  Interest,  Reactionary,  and  Pedant.  This 
one,  whenever  Manklhd~will  lead  hiiRy  titgs  in 
his  heere  or  lies  down -in  his  tracks;  until,  pricked 
and  goaded  ^bjThijTplay fellow,  he  at  length  gets 
up  and  scrambles  after.  And  so  these  two  keep 
ever  by  thejsjde  or  Natthe  heelfrefMankind,  whom 
they  neifnerje'ad  norcfeflect  from  his  course. 

Paradox  serves  to  dislodge  prejudice;  and 
blasphemy  may  rudely  but  effectually  bring  to 
their  senses  those  who  have  mistaken  the  hard- 
ness of  their  hearts  for  loyalty,  and  their  easy 
default  for  success.  But  practical  wisdom  be- 
longs only  to  those  who  "proceed  unwaveringly 
out  of  the  past  and  into  the  future,  correcting 
mistakes  when  they  may,  conserving  the  good  al- 
ready won,  and  making  new  conquests. 

It  may  be  remarked,  and  should  be  readily 
granted,  that  patient  plodding  is  less  piguant  than 
the  by-play  cTlnertia  anoTrevolt.  The  spirit  of 
Nietsche  is  doubtless  even  now  yawning  might- 
ily at  such  tedious  moralizing;  fresh  proof  of 
the  "dull,  gloomy  seriousness,"  the  hopeless 


6  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

stupidity  of  our  sublunary  virtue.  I  believe  that 
Nietsche  has  frankly  confessed  the  real  grievance 
of  his  class  of  mischief  makers.  They  are  im- 
patient and  easily  bored;  while  the  business  of 
establishing  a  healthful  and  vigorous  society  is 
complicated,  tortuous,  and  slow.  Their  talent 
for  letters,  their  love  of  vivid  pictures,  sharp  con- 
trasts, and  concise  dramatic  situations,  cannot 
adapt  itself  to  the  real  bulk  and  complexity  of 
life.  Civilization  is  too  promiscuous,  too  pro- 
longed and  monotonous,  for  these  rare  spirits. 
And  they  have  their  sure  reward;  for  they  ease 
the  tension  of  effort,  supplying  a  recreative  re- 
lease from  its  pangs  under  the  flattering  guise  of 
higher  truth.  All  the  impatience  and  playful- 
ness in  the  world  conspires  with  them.  But  as 
one  of  the  demos  of  moral  dullards,  I  get  no 
little  comfort  from  apply  ing  to  l^ietsclie  and  Ibsen, 
and  to  certain  prophet  litterateurs  of  England, 
Burke's  reproof  of  Lord  Bolingbroke. 

When  men  find  that  something  can  be  said  in  favor 
of  what,  on  the  very  proposal,  they  have  thought 
utterly  indefensible,  they  grow  doubtful  of  their  own 
reason;  they  are  thrown  into  a  sort  of  pleasing  sur- 
prise; they  run  along  with  the  speaker,  charmed 
and  captivated  to  find  such  a  plentiful  harvest  of 
reasoning,  where  all  seemed  barren  and  unpromising. 
.  .  .  There  is  a  sort  of  gloss  upon  ingenious  false- 
hoods that  dazzles  the  imagination,  but  which  neither 
belongs  to,  nor  becomes  the  sober  aspect  of  truth. 
...  In  such  cases,  the  writer  has  a  certain  fire  and 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE       7 

alacrity  inspired  into  him  by  a  consciousness,  that 
let  it  fare  how  it  will  with  the  subject,  his  ingenuity 
will  be  sure  of  applause.3 

It  is  safe  to  accept  morality  as  one  accepts 
agriculture,  navigation^  constitutional  govern- 
ment, or  any  other  tried  solution  of  an  unavoid- 
able problemT  THere  is  false  opinion  here  as 
elsewhere,  and  hollow  convention  is  not  infre- 
quently paraded  as  duty  and  wisdom;  but  the 
nucleus  of  morality  is  verified  truth,  the  precipF"" 
tafe  of  mankind's  prolonged  experiment  In  living. 

1  do  not  propose,"howeVet',  10  be  balisfied  rrflh 
so  modest  a  claim.  It  might  still  be  contended 
that  morality  is  doubtless  true  so  far  as  it  goes, 
or  well  enough  for  those  who  care  for  it;  but  that 
it  will  scarcely  concern  other  than  the  more 
coarse-grained  and  less  adventurous  minds.  It 
is  customary  to  associate  high  wisdom_with  the 
pursuit  of  some  special^  interest,  for  its  own  sake, 
and  under  ncfwlcler  law  than  a  sort  of  professional 
etiquette  or  code  of  honor.  Business  is  business, 
art  is  art,  truth  is  truth,  and  for  one  who  cares 
to  "go  in  for  it,"  virtue  is  for  virtue's  sake.  Those 
who  ri  V  '  T  ;«-  r|0  not  object  to  the  moralist, 
provideH  h  n>"s  not  intrude.  But  if  he  applies 
his  rules  to  oilier  uian  his  own  personal  or  do- 
mestic affairs,  he  is  berated  as  an  impertinent 
busybody  who  is  talking  of  things  he  does  not 
understand.  Now  I  venture  to  assert  that  the 


8  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

moralist  in  the  nature  of  the  case  can  never  be 
impertinent,  though  he  may  be  impolite  or  even 
insulting.     He  can  never  be  impertinent  because, 
contrary  to  the  formula  of  the  day,  there  is  no 
sru;JTjfojpg  fl.<;  vjruip  for  virtue's  sake.    MbTality 
is  the  one  interest  that  virtually  represents  ^ail 
interests.     It  is  the  interest  of  every  *m*an  in  the 
general  tests  of  success  and  failure,  and  in  the 
maintenance  of  the  field  or  medium  of  all  inter- 
ests.    There  is  no  enterprise  which,  if  conducted 
efficiently,  is  not  a  verification  of  moral  rules; 
there  is  no  enterprise  which  does  not  receive  and 
transmit  the  flow  of  life  that  circulates  through 
the  moral  system  at  large.    To  be  righteously 
indignant  is  to  protest  passionately  in  behalf  of 
the  whole  good,  and  against  the  clumsy  and  in- 
advertent evil.     To  this  morality  owes  its  uni- 
versal  support,   its   invincible  finality.     It  need 
never  be  apologetic,  because  it  holds  no  brief; 
it   advocates   no   measure   except   the   carrying 
through  to  the  end  of  what  is  virtually  undertaken 
by  all  parties  to  the  adventure  of  life. 
I      It  follows  that  no  man  can  exempt  himself  from 
/  moral  liability.     He  is  irrevocably  committed  to 
/  life,  and  can  neglect  the  laws  of  life  only  at  his 
I    absolute  or  ultimate  peril.     What  does  it  profit  a 
/    man  to  gain  a  bit  here  and  a  bit  there,  if  he  is 
^    foreordained  to  loss  on  the  whole  ?    If  he  squan- 
ders his   moral  patrimony  he  has  no  means  of 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE       9 

recouping  his  fortunes;  he  has  wasted  his  sup- 
porting vitality  and  forfeited  his  general  livelihood. 
And  now  if  this  be  true  it  is  of  more  than  pass- 
ing or  sentimental  importance.  It  needs  to  be 
vividly  realized  if  morality  is  to  make  its  saving 
appeal.  Morality  is  only  discredited  through 
being  sanctioned;  its  proper  merits  are  more 
eloquent  than  its  friends  and  borrowed  auspices. 
If  it  can  be  simply  proclaimed  as  it  is,  it  cannot  be 
denied.  This  is  one  of  the  things  which  I  under- 
take to  do.  But  to  understand  what  morality 
really  is,  to  recognize  its  claims,  is  to  understand 
also  its  application,  its  critical  pertinence  to  art 
and  religion,  to  all  the  great  and  permanent 
undertakings  of  men.  Such  application  I  shall 
in  the  later  chapters  undertake  to  suggest,  partly 
as  an  amplification  of  the  meaning  of  morality, 
and  partly  as  a  programme  of  further  reflection 

looking    tnwarr]    a  ^m^^4-|4i44^ft|^   nf    hl>t™T 

I  can  do  no  more  in  the  present  chapter  than 
broadly  present  the  structure  of  morality,  leav- 
ing the  logic  of  its  appeal  and  its  more  important 
applications  for  the  chapters  which  follow. 


(L^i 


The  moral  affair  of  men,  a  prolonged  and 
complicated  historical  enterprise,  is  thrown  into 
historical  relief  upon  the  background  of  a  me- 
chanical cosmos.  Natyrg^afrnnterpreted  by  the 


\ 


io  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

inorganic  sciences,  presents  a  spectacle  of  im- 
passivity. It  moves,  transforms,  and  radiates, 
on  every  scale  and  in  all  its  gigantic  range  of 
temporal  and  spatial  distance,  utterly  without 
loss  or  gain  of  value.  One  cannot  rightly  at- 
tribute to  such  a  world  even  the  property  of 
neglect  or  brutality.  Its  indifferAice  is  absolute. 

Such  a  world  is  devoid  qfjyalue  because  of  the 
elimination  of  thejiias  q|Jife.  Where  nojnter- 
e^t  is  at  stake,  changes  can  make  no  pracucal 
difference;  where  no  claims  are  made,  there  can 
be  neither  fortune  nor  calamity,  neither  comedy 
nor  tragedy.  There  is  no  object  of  applause  or 
resentment,  if  there  be  nothing  in  whose  behalf 
such  judgments  may  be  urged. 

But  with  the  introduction  of  Hfe,  .^ven  the  least 
particle  of  it,  the  ru3e^rbltoiifro^o^a^m  that 
ever  made  the  venture,  nature  becomes  -^flgw 
system  with  a  new  centre.  The  organism  in- 
herits the  earth;  the  mechanisms  of  nature 
become  its  environment,  its  resources  in  the 
struggle  to  keep  for  a  time  body  and  soul  together. 
The  mark  of  life  is  partiality  for  jtself^  If  any- 
thing irfoTJecflme1  aft  object  oi  solicitude,  it  must 
first  announce  itself  through  acting  in  its  own  be- 
half. With  life  thus  instituted  there  begins  the 
\  long  struggle  of  interest  against  inertia  and  in- 
\  differencer  that  war  of-wbich  civilization  itself 
j  is  only  the  latest  and  most  triumphant  phase. 


)THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     n 

Nature  being  thus  enlivened,  the  simpler 
terms  of  value  now  find  a  meaning.  A  living  thing 
must  suffer  calamities  or  achieve  successes;  and 
since  its  fortunes  are  good  or  bad  in  the  most 
elementary  sense  that  can  be  attached  to  these 
conceptions,  it  is  worth  our  while  to  consider  the 
matter  with  some  care.  An  interest,,  or  unit  of 
life,  is  essentially  an  orgajoizaMeir^riick  consist- 
ently acts  for^|s  own  prfisgrya.Hnnl  It  deals  with 
its  environment  in^Tich  wiseas  to  keep  itself  intact 
and  bring  itself  to  maturity;  appropriating  what 
it  needs,  and  avoiding  or  destroying  what  threatens 
it  with  injury.  The  imprest  so  functions  as  to 
supply  itself  with  the  means  whereby  it  may' 
continue  to  exist  and  ^ttn3roS~  This  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  action  which  may  be  generalized  from  its 
behavior,  and  through  which  it  may  be  distin- 
guished within  the  context  of  nature.  Now  the 
term  interest  being  construed  in  this  sense,  we 
may  describe  goodness  as  fulfilment  of  interest. 
The  description  will  perhaps  refer  more  clearly 
to  human  life,  if  for  the  term  iyiixcst  we  sub- 
stitute the  term  desire.  GoocB  Hpould  then 
consist  in  the  satisfaction  of  amK.  In  other 
words,  things  are  good  because  desired,*  not  de- 
sired because  goocT T6"~5ay  -thaTWne  desires 
things  because  one  needs  them,  or  likes  them, 
or  admires  them,  is  redundant;  in  the  end  one 
simply  (teires  certain  things,  that  is,  one  pos- 


12  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

sesses  an  interest  or  desire  which  they  fulfil. 
There  are  as  many  varieties  of  goodness  as  there 
are  varieties__of  intprggt;  and  to  the  variety  of 
interest  there  is  no  end. 

Strictly  speaking,  goodness  belongs  to  an 
interest's  actual  state  of  fulfilment.  This  will 
consist  in  an  activity,  exerciseb!  by  the  interest, 
but  employing  the  environment.  With  a  slight 
shift  of  emphasis,  goodness  in  this^absolute  sense 
will  attach  either  to  interest  in  so  far  as  nourished 
by  objects,  as  in  the  case  of  hunger  appeased, 
or  to  objects  in  so  far  as  assimilated  to  interest, 
as  in  the  case  of  food  consumed.  It  follows 
that  goodness  in  a  rehyj^e^ejise,  in  the  sense 
of  "good  for,"  will  attach  to  whatever  conduces 
to  good  in  the  absolute  sense;  that  is,  actions 
and  objects,  such  as  agriculture  and  bread, 
that  lead  directly  or  indirectly  to  the  fulfilment 
of  interest.  But  "good"  and  "good  for,"  like 
their  opposites  "bad"  and  "bad  for,"  are  never 
sharply  distinguishable,  because  the  imagina- 
tion anticip^^the  fortunes  of  interests,  and 
transforms~H  Btemote  contingencies  into  actual 
victory  or  dewK. 

Through  their  organization  into  Itfe^  the 
mechanisms  of  nature  tBu^take  on  the  generic 
quality^  of  good  and  eviL  Triey  either  serve 
interests  or  oppose  them;  and  must  be  employed 
avoided  and  rejected  accord- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     13 

ingly.  Events  which  once  indifferently  happened 
are  now  objects  of  hope  and  fear,  or  integral 
parts  of  success  and  failure. 

m 

But  that  organization  of  life  which  denotes 
the  presftnrft  of  nr^praiiTy  has  not  yet  been  denned. 
The  isolated  interest  extricates  itself  from  mechan- 
ism; and,  struggling  to  maintain  itself,  does,  it 
is  true,  divide  the  world  into  good  and  bad, 
according  to  its  uses.  But  the  moral  drama 
opens^  only  jvhen  interesl_jneets-^terest ;  when 
the  path  of  one  unit  of, life  js  crossed  by  that  of 
another.  Every  interest  is  compelled  to  recog- 
nize other  interests,  on  the  one  hand  as  parts  of 
its  environment,  and  on  the  other  hand  as  part- 
ners in  the  general  enterprise  of  life.  Thus 
there  is  evolved  the  moral  idea,  or  jrinciple  of 
action,  according  to  which  interest  allies  itself 
with  interest  in  order  to  be  free-handed  and  power- 
ful against  the  common  hereditary  enemy,  the 
heavyhie_rtia  and  the  incessant  wear  of  the  cos- 
mo'sTrhrough  morality  a  plurality  of  interests 
becomes  an  economy,  or  community  of  interests. 

I  have  thus  far  described  the  situation  as 
though  it  were  essentially  a  social  one.  But 
while,  historically  speaking,  it  iscToubtless  al- 
ways social  in  one  of  its  aspects,  the  essence  of 
the  matter  is  as  truly  represented  within  the 


14  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

group  of  interests  sustained  by  a  single  organism, 
wEenT  these,  for  Example,  are  unileTliian  indi- 
viduaTTrfe^purpoSB: — Muialil^  is  Lhal  procedure 
in  which  several  interestsT^wTiether  they  involve 
one  or  more  physical  organisms,  are  so  adjusted 
as  to  function  as  one  interest,  more  massive  in 
its  support,  and  more  coherent  and  united  in 
the  common  task  of  fulfilment.  Interests  morally 
combined  are  not  destroyed  or  superseded,  as  are 
V  mechanical  forces,  by  their  resultant.  The  power 
of  the  higher  interest  is  due  to  a  summing  of 
incentives  emanating  from  the  contributing  in- 
terests; it  can  perpetuate  itself  only  through  keep- 
ing these  interests  alive.  The  most  spectacular 
instance  of  this  is  gtfvfrnment,  which  functions 
as  one,  and  yet  derives  its  power  from  an  enor- 
mous variety  of  different  interests,  which  it  must 
foster  and  conserve  as  the  sources  of  its  own  life. 
In  all  cases  the  strength  of  morality  must  lie  in 
its  liberality  and  breadth. 

,  Morality  is  simply  the  forced  choice  between 
suicide  and  Abundant  life.  When  interests  war 
against  one  UfTbtheT  "they  render  the  project  of 
life,  at  best  a  hard  adventure,  futile  and  abortive. 
I  hold  it  to  be  of  prime  importance  for  the  under- 
standing of  this  matter  to  observe  that  from  the 
poorest  and  crudest  beginnings,  morality  is  the 
massing  of  interests  against  a  reluctant  cosmos. 
Life  has  been  attended  with  discord  and  mutual 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE      15 

destruction,  but  this  is  its  failure.  The  first 
grumbling  truce  between  savage  enemies,  the 
first  collective  enterprise,  the  first  peaceful  com- 
munity, the  first  restraint  on  gluttony  for  the  sake 
of  health,  the  first  suppression  of  ferocity  for  the 
sake  of  a  harder  blow  struck  in  cold  blood, — these 
were  the  first  victories  of  morality.  They  were 
moral  victories  in  that  they  organized  life  into 
more  comprehensive  unities,  making  it  a  more 
formidable  ^tBiffgK^d  securing  a  more  abundant 
satisfaction.  The  facPthat  life  thuscombined 
and  weighted,  was  hurled  against  life,  was  the 
lingering  weakness,  the  deficiency  which  attends 
upon  all  partial  attainment.  The  moral  triumph 
lay  in  the  positive, Access  of  strength. 

Let  us  now  correct  our  elementary  conceptions 
of  value  so  that  they  may  apply  to  moral  value. 
The  fulfilment  of  a  simple  isolated  interest,  is  j 
good,  but  only  the  fulfilment  of  an  organization  I 
of  interests  is  morajlygood.     Such  goodness  ap- ' 
pears  in  the  realization  of  an  individual's  sys- 
tematic purpose  or  in  the  well-being  of  a  com- 
munity.   That  it  virtually  implies  one  ultjmate  ^ 
ggpd,  the  fulfilment  of  the  system  of  all  interests, 
must  necessarily  follow;    although  we  cannot  at 
present  deal  adequately  with  that  conclusion. 

The  qualijy  of  moral  goodness,  like  the  quality 
of  goodness  in  the  fundamental  sense,  lies  not  in 
the  nature  of  any  class  of  objects,  but  in  any  ob- 


16  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ject  oj*  activity  whatsoever,  in  so  far  as  this  pro- 
vJ3fe-a~fulfilment  of  interest  or  desire.    In  the 


case  of  niQral  goodnessthts~fulnlment  must  em- 
brace a  group  of  interests  in  which  each  is  Hmited 
by  the  others.  Its  "vaTae  lies  not  only  in  fulfil- 
ment, but  also  in  adjustment  and  harmony.  And 
j  this  value  is  independent  of  the  speciaTsubject- 
matter  of  the  interests.  Moralists  have  generally 
agreed  that  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  moral 
goodness  exclusively  in  terms  of  any  special  in- 
terest, even  such,  as  honor,,  power,  or  wealth.4 
There  is  no  interest  so  rare  or  so  humble  that  its 
fulfilment  is  not  morally  good,  provided  that  ful- 
filment forms  part  of  the  systematic  fulfilment  of 
a  group  of  interests. 

But  there  has  persisted  from  the  dawn  of  ethi- 
cal theory  a  misconception  concerning  the  place 
of  pleasure  in1  moral  goodness.  It  has  been  sup- 
posed that  every  interest,  whatever  its  special 
subject-matter,  is  an  interest  in  pleasure.  Now 
while  a  thorough  criticism  of  hedonism  would  be 
out  of  place  here,  even  if  it  were  profitable,  ;>. 
summary  consideration  of  it  will  throw  some  light 
the  truth.5  Fortunately,  the  ethical  status 
of  pleasure  is  much  clearer  than  its  psychological 
status.  As  a  moral  Concern,  pleasure  is  e'nner  a 
special  interest,  in  which  case  it  must  take  its  place 
in  the  whole  economy  of  life,  and  submit  to  prin- 
ciples which  adjust  it  to  the  rest;  or  it  is  an  ele- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     17 

went  in  every  interest,  in  which  case  it  is  itself  not 
an  interest  at  all.  Now  whether  it  be  propefto 
recognize  a  special  interest  in  pleasure,  it  is  not 
necessary  here  to  determine.  That  this  should  be 
generally  supposed  to  be  the  case  is  mainly  due,  I 
think,  to  a  habit  of  associating  pleasure  peculiarly 
with  certain  familiar  "and  recurrent  bodily  inter- 
ests. At  dny  rate  it  is  clear  that  the  pleasure 
which  constantly  attends  interests  is^ot  that  in. 
which  the  interest  is  taken.  Interests  and  desires 
are  qualitatively  diverse,  and  to  an  extent  that  isy 
unlimited?  The  "Simpler  organisms  are  not  in-< 
terested  in  pleasure,  but  in  their  individual  pres- 
ervation; while  man  is  interested  not  only  in 
preservation,  but  in  learning,  card-playing,  loving, 
fighting,  bargaining,  and  all  the  innumerable 
activities  that  form  part  of  the  present  complex 
of  life. 

Now,  it  is  true  that  it  is  agreeable  or  pleasant 
to  contemplate  the^fulnlment  of  an  interest;  and 
that  such  anticipatory  gratification  in^some  v  * 
measure  accompanies  all  endeavor.  But  there 
is  an  absolute  difference  between  such  present 
pleasure  and  the  prospect  which  evokes  it^^ltnd 
-it  is  that  prospect  or  imagined  state  of  fulfil- 
ment which  is  the  object  of  endeavor,  the  good 
sought.  It  is  also  true  that  the  fulfilment  of  every 
interest  is  pleasant.  But  this  means  only  that  the 
interest  is  conscious  of  its  fulfilment.  In  pleasure 


i8  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

and  pain  life  records  its^gains  and  losses,  and  is 
guided  to  enhance  the  one  or  "repair  the  other. 
Where  in  the  scale  of  life  pleasure  and  pain  be- 
gin it  is  not  now  possible  to  say,  but  it  is  certain 
that  they  are  present  wherever  interests  engage 
in  any  sort  of  reciprocity.  If  one  interest  is  to 
cSntrot-or  engage  another  it  must  be  aware  of  it, 
and  alive  to  its  success  or  failure.  Where  life 
has  reached  the  human  stage  of  complexity,  in 
which  interests  supervene  upon  interests,  in 
which  every  interest  is  itself  an  object  of  inter- 
est, the  consciousness  of  good  and  evil  assumes 
a  constantly  increasing  importance.  Life  is  more 
watchful  of  itself,  more  keenly  sensitive  to  the 
fortunes  of  all  of  its  constituent  parts.  It  is  proper, 
therefore,  to  associate  pleasure  with  goodness; 
and  happiness,  or  a  more  constant  and  pervasive 
pleasure,  with  the  higher  forms  of  moral  good- 
ness. But  pleasure  and  happiness  are  incidental 
to  goodness;  necessary,  but  not  definitive  of  its  *& 
general  form  and  structure.  ^  ^*MU»*  v^ 

In  addition  to  goodness  thus  amplified  therfe 
now  enters  into  life  at  the  moral  sf2§fc*«rnew  ele- 
ment of  value,  the  Tightness  or  virtue  of  action 
which,  though  moved  by  some  immediate  de- 
sire, is  at  the  same  time  controlled  by  a  regard 
for  a  higher  or  more  comprehensive  interest. 

his  is  the  disUagabhrng^ggalitv  of  all  that  wins 
moral  approval:  thrift  and  temperance;  loyalty 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     19 

and  integrity;  justice,  unselfishness,  and  public 
spirit;  humanity  and  piety.  To  the  further  dis- 
cussion'of  these  several  virtues  we  shall  have  oc- 
casion shortly  to  return. 

Moral  procedure,  then,  differs  from  life  in  its 
more  elementary  form,  through  the  fact  that 
interests  are  organized.  Morality  is  only  life 
where  this  has  assumed  the  form  of  the  forward 
movement  of  character,  nationality,  and  hu- 
manity. Moral  principles  define  the  adjustment 
of  interest  to.  interest,  for  the  saving  of  each  and 
the  strengthening  of  both  against  failure  and 
death.  Morality  is  only  the  joeJthod  of  carrying 
on  the  affair  of  life  beyond  a  certain  point  of  com- 
plexity .^JF^Tfte---ffiet]2xt^  concerted,  cumu- 
lative living,  through  wnTch  interests  are  brought 
from  a  doubtful  condition  of  being  tolerated  by 
the  cosmos,  to  a  condition^ofsecurity  and  con- 
fidence. The  spring  and  motive  of  morality  are 
therefore  absolutely  one  with  those  of  life.  The 
self-preservative  impulse  of  the  simplest  organ- 
ism is  the  initial  bias  from  which,  by  a  continuous 
progression  in  the  direction  of  first  intent,  have 
sprung  the  service  of  mankind  and  the  love  of 
God. 


THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

/I>L&^^S(^C'£&*I        'l^i/ 

There  is  an  old  and  unprofitable  quarrel  be- 
tween those  who  identify,  and  those  who  contrast, 
morality  with  nature.  To  adjudicate  this  quarrel, 
it  is  necessary  to  define  a  point  at  which  nature 
somehow  exceeds  herself.  Strictly  speaking,  it 
is  as  arbitrary  to  say  that  morality,  which  arose 
and  is  immersed  in  nature,  is  not  natural,  as  to 
say  that  magnetism  and  electricity  are  not  natural. 
If  nature  be  defined  in  terms  of  the  categories  of 
any  stage  of  complexity,  all  beyond  will  wear  the 
aspect  of  a  miracle.  It  would  be  proper  to  dis- 
miss the  question  as  only  a  trivial  matter  of  term- 
inology, did  not  the  discussion  of  it  provide  an  oc- 
casion for  alluding  to  certain  confused  notions 
that  have  obtained  wide  currency. 

Thus  there  is  an  ancieuLbelief  that  it  is  natural 
to  be  licentious;  that  man  is  at  heart  unruly  and 
wftftiir~wearing  the  artificial  good  behavior  of 
civilization  as  he  wears  his  clothes.  Nietsche 
has  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  glorification  of 
this  pro-natural  and  anti-moral  monster.  And 
yet  no  one  has  recognized  more  clearly  than  he, 
that  restraint  and  law,  are  not  only  in  life  from 
the  beginning,,  butthat  they  are  themselves  the 
very^sonrees  df  its  power. 

'The  singular  fact  remains,'  he  says,  'that  every- 
thing of  the  nature  of  freedom,  elegance,  boldness, 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     21 

dance,  and  masterly  certainty,  which  exists  or  has 
existed,  whether  it  be  in  thought  itself,  or  in  admin- 
istration, or  in  speaking  and  persuading,  in  art  just 
as  in  conduct,  has  only  developed  by  means  of  the 
tyranny  of  such  arbitrary  law;  and  in  all  seriousness, 
it  is  not  at  all  improbable  that  precisely  this  is  "na- 
ture" and  "natural" — and  not  laisser-aller/' * 

It  only  remains  to  drop  the  terms  "arbitrary"  and 
"  tyranny  " ;  since  the  principle  of  develojjmeatJn 
life  can  scarcely  be  regarded  -as-  arbitrary^orjts 
effectual  Working  as  tyranny. 

Huxley  chose  to  draw  a  line  between  nature 
and  morality,  at  the  point  where  a  limit  is  set  to 
the  isolated  organism's  strugglej^ajnsJLall  comers. 

The  practice  of  that  which  is  ethically  best — what 
we  call  goodness  or  virtue — involves  a  course  of  con- 
duct which,  in  all  respects,  is  opposed  to  that  which 
leads  to  success  fn  the  cosmic^tfiiggle  for  existence. 
In  place  of  ruthless  self-assertion  it  demands  self- 
restrainO 

But  Huxley  appears  momentarily  to  have  over- 
looked the  fact  that  the  struggle  for  exjstpnrft  ^ 
itself  piij^jjjQrfTTinim  on  pdf-rflfrtTfnnt  For  there 
is  no  stage  of  evolution  in  which  the  adjustment 
and  co-operation  of  interests  is  not  an  ju3to 
survival.  One  doe's  not  have  to  rise  higEeFln 
the  scale  of  life  than  the  plants  fertilized  by 
insects,  to  observe  the  working  of  this  principle* 
It  is  only  the  crudest  and  most  impotent  self- 
assertion  that  is  "ruthless."  The  reason  for  this 


22  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

as  simply  that  the  real  enemy  of  every  vital  proc- 
•ess  is  not  another  kindred  process,  but  the  me- 
chanical environment.  Life  is  essentially  an  as- 
sejjtjpn,  not  against  life,  but  against  death.  In- 
terests that  expend  their  energies  in  destroying 
or  crippling  one  another,  slip  back  toward  that 
primeval  lifelessness  from  which  they  emerged. 
Restraint  for  the  sake  of  organization  is  there- 
fore only  a  developed_^and  -mfcelligeril  ydf-asser- 
tioaT~ 

If  one  insists  still  upon  drawing  a  line  between 
cosmical  and  moral  forces,  let  it  be  drawn  at 
the  point  where  there  first^aji^  that  imstahlf* 
complex  calledjifft-  Life  does  in  a  sense  oppose 
itself  to  the  balance  of  nature.  To  hold  itself 
together,  it  must  play  at  parry  and  thrust  with 
the  very  forces  which  gave  it  birth.  Once  having 
happened,  it  so  acts  as  to  persist.  But  it  should 
be  remarked  that  this  opposition  between  the 
careless  and  rough  course  of  the  cosmos,  the  in- 
sidious forces  of  dissolution,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  self-preserving  care  of  the  organism  on 
the  other,  is  present  absolutely  from  the  outset 
of  life.  "^*- 

Vegetable  and  animal  organisms  do,  it  is  true, 
adapt  themselves  to  the  environment;  but  their 
adaptation  is  essentially  a  method  of  using  and 
modifying  the  environment  in  their  own  favor, 
precisely  as  is  the  case  with  human  action. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     23 

Therefore  Huxley's  sharp  distinction  between 
natural  plant  life  and  man's  artificial  garden  is 
misleading. 

'The  tendency  of  the  cosmic  process,'  he  says, 
'is  to  bring  about  the  adjustment  of  the  forms  of 
plant  life  to  the  current  conditions;  the  tendency 
of  the  horticultural  process  is  the  adjustment  of  the 
conditions  to  the  needs  of  the  forms  of  plant  life 
which  the  gardener  desires  to  raise.'8 

But  this  is  to  ignore  #ie  basal  fact,  which  is  that 
plant  lifejnjmy  formLis^a-  defiance  of  currenlrcon- 
difionir.  Art  has  already  begun  when  natural 
processes  assume  a  form  that  feeds  itself,  repro- 
duces itself,  and  grows.  The  first  organisms  have 
only  a  local  footing;  they  are  rooted  in  the  soil, 
and  can  turn  to  their  advantage  only  the  condi- 
tions characteristic  of  a  time  and  place.  Event- 
ually there  evolves  a  more  resourceful  unit  of  life, 
like  the  gardener  with  his  cultivated  plants,  who 
is  capable  of  inhabiting  nature  at  large.  But  the 
method  is  still  the  same,  that  of  playing  off  nature 
against  nature;  only  it  is  now  done  on  a  larger 
scale,  and  in  a  more  aggressive  and  confident 
spirit.  The  need  of  concession  to  the  demands 
of  locality  is  reduced,  through  a  concession  once 
and  for  all  to  the  wider  processes  of  nature.  But 
in  relation  to  its  environment,  life  is  never  wholly 
constructive,  as  it  is  never  wholly  passive.  Whether 
it  appears  in  the  form  of  vegetation  or  civilization, 


24  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

it  always  involves  both  an  adaptation  of  nature 
to  itself  and  of  itself  to  nature. 

Morality,  then,  is  natural  if  life  is_natural;  for 
it  is  denned  by  the  same  essential  principles.  It 
is  related  to  life  as  a  lateFto  an  earlieFphase  of 
one  development.  The  organizatiojrof  life  an- 
swers the  self-preservative  impulse  with  which 
life  begins;  the  deliberate  fulfilment  of  a  human 
purpose  is  only  life  grown  strong  enough  through 
organization  to  conduct  a  larger  and  more  advent- 
urous enterprise.  ~" 


In  the  light  of  this  conception  let  us  examine 
more  fully  the  relation  of  morality  to  the  competi- 

nities.  There  can,  of  course,  be  no  doubt  that 
competition  forces  life  up  in  the  scale.  But  it 
is  equally  true,  and  more  significant,  that  in  the 
course  of  that  progress  competition  itself  is 
steadily  eliminated.  The  stronger  units  of  life 
prevail  against  the  weaker.  But  the  stronger 
units  of  life  are  the  more  inclusive  and  harmoni- 
ous complexes  of  interest.  They  are  constituted 
by  adjusting  interests;  allowing  each  a  modicum 
of  free  play,  or  crushing  those  that  will  not  sub- 
mit to  organization.  Within  such  units  the  prin- 
ciple of  mechanical  survival  gives  way  to  the 
principle  of  moral  survival.  I  mean  by  this  that 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     25 

the  selection,  rejection,  and  gradation  of  interests 
is  made  not  on  the  basis  of  the  uncompromising 
self-assertion  of  each  and  the  survival  of  the  hardy 
remnant;  but  on  the  baste  of  the  contribution 
made  by  each  to  the  life  of  the,  collective  body. 
Thetest  of  survival  is  obedience  to  a  law  denned 
in  the  joint  interest  of  all,  and  control  is  vested  in 
the  rational  capacity  to  represent  this  interest 
and  conduct  it  to  a  safe  and  profitable  issue. 
The  strength  of  life  thus  organized  lies  in  its  mas- 
siveness,  in  its  effective  plenitude.  When  such 
units  wage  war  on  one  another,  this  strength  is 
wasted;  and  the  very  same  principle  that  strength 
shall  prevail,  tends  to  the  extension  of  the  organ- 
ization until  it  shall  embrace  contentious  factions. 
Even  where  the  principle  of  survival  does  not 
operate,  conflict  has  been,  and  yet  remains,  li 
factor  in  moral  progress  of  enormous  and— fer- 
reaching  importance.  The  more  keen  and  un- 
relenting it  is,  the  more  effectually  does  it  ex- 
pose the  weakness  of  the  competing  units,  the 
more  urgently  does  it  require  a  better  concentra- 
tion and  economy  of  effort.  In  order  to  fight  a 
rival,  it  is  necessary  to  leave  off  fighting  one's  self, 
and  be  healthy  and  single-minded.  An  industrial 
corporation,  in  order  to  overreach  its  competitors, 
is  compelled  to  adjust  its  intricate  functions  with 
incredible  nicety,  to  utilize  by-products,  and  even 
to  introduce  old-age  pensions  for  the  promotion 


26  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

of  morale  among  its  employees.  And  so  a  nation, 
to  be  strong  in  war,  must  enjoy  peace  and  justice 
at  home.  War  has  served  society  by  welding  great 
aggregates  of  interest  into  compact  and  effective 
wholes,  the  enemy  providing  an  object  upon  which 
collective  endeavor  can  unite. 

But  circumstances  that  press  life  forward  will 
be  left  behind,  if  these  circumstances  are  not  them- 
selves good.  And  war  is  not  that  for  which  men 
war;  they  war  for  the  existence  ancl  satisfaction 
of  their  interests.  That  which  is  constructive 
and  saving  in  war  is  not  the  contact  between  the 
warring  parties,  but  their  jnternaLcoherence  and 
harmony.  It  is  that  which  survives  when  hostil- 
ity is  inhibited  by  a  recognition  of  the  cost;  it  is 
that  which  is  extended  when  hostility  gives  way 
to  a  wHf r  rQ-nrd  in  q  f "V*  of  interests. 

The  loss__when  contending  currents  are  re- 
directed and  flow  together  is  not  a  loss  of  power, 
but  only  of  neutralizing  resistance.  It  is  true 
that  the  lesson  of  harmony  is  learned  through 
discord;  but  harmony  is  none  the  less  in  the  end 
exclusive  ~oT~discord.  The  principle  of  peace, 
learned  at  honieTfKrough  the  hard  necessity  of 
war  abroad,  finds  only  a  more  complete  justifica- 
tion and  beneficent  application  in  peace  abroad. 
It  is  love  and  not  hate  that  is  the  moving  spring 
of  life.  It  is  love  which  is  constructive;  hate  de- 
stroys even  the  very  object  that  evokes  and  sus- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     27 

tains  it.  It  is  essential,  then,  to  life,  not  only  to 
assert  and  reproduce  itself,  but  to  increase  itself 
through  allying  itself  with  life.  Where  the  motive 
of  life  thus  freely  expresses  itself,  there  are  no 
natural  enemies. 

I  count  it  to  be  important  thus  to  trace  morality 
back  to  the  origin  «11nvft_n_f  Ifffi/'sirTre  only  sr>  is 
it  possible  Lo"Uno!erstandits  urgency,  and  its  con- 
tinuity with^every  organic  impulse.  It  is  because 
morality  is  without  warrant  dislocated  from  the 
natural  life,  that  it  is  accused  ofbeihg  barren  and 
formal.  To  many  minds  it  is  best  symbolized  by 
the  kindly  lady  who  gives  the  small  boy  a  penny, 
and  admonishes  him  not  to  spend  it.  But  there 
could  be  no  more  outrageous  travesty.  Morality 
in  its  springs  is  absolutely  one  with  that  clinging 
to  life  which  is  the  most  deep-lying  of  all  interests, 
and  with  that  relish  for  life  in  which  its  goodness 
needs  no  philosopher's  approval.  The  primal  de- 
termination to  be  and  to  sell  one's  self  dearly,  is 
not  different,  except  in  its  limits,  from  the  moral 
determination  to  be  and  to  attain  to  the  utter- 
most. The  whole  force  of  life  is  behind  every 
moral  scruple,  and  guarantees  the  sanity  even  of 
a  universal  good-will. 

But   the   identification   of  morality  with   the  / 
organization  ortie,  serves  also  to  demonstrate 
life  in  its  unity  and  larger  auspices.     Morality 
harmonizes  life  and  eliminates  its  wanton  self- 


28  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

destruction;  but  life  is  not  therefore  left  without 
an  object  of  conquest.  For  there  is  one  campaign 
in  which  all  interests  are  engaged,  and  which  re- 
quires their  undivided  and  aggressive  effort.  This 
is  the  first  and  last  campaign,  the  war  of  life  upon 
the  routine  of  the  mechanical  cosmos  and  its 
forces  of  dissolution.  To  live,  to  let  live,  and  to 
grow  in  life,  constitute  an  absorbing  and  passion- 
'  ate  task,  in  which  every  human  heroism  may  find 
a  proper  object. 


It  must  be  admitted  that  the  imagination  has 
not  yet  sufficiently  glorified  this  enterprise  of 
civilization.  It  is  hard  to  forget  old  shibboleths 
and  loyalties.  And  yet  precisely  that  must  be 
done  with  every  advance  in  liberality.  Admira- 
tion and  passion  lag  behind  reason;  are  forever 
backsliding  and  debauching  themselves  among 
the  companions  of  their  youth.  But  man's  sal- 
vation lies  not  in  degrading  his  reason  to  the 
level  of  his  loyalties,  nor  in  allowing  the  two  to 
drift  apart,  but  in  acquiring  a  finer  loyalty.  And 
while  one  cannot  extemporize"  Llie-symbols  and 
imagery  of  devotion,  these  will  surely  grow  about 
any  sustained  purpose. 

We  hear  much  in  our  day  of  the  passing  of 
nobility  and  enthusiasm  with  the  era  of  war. 
"Whatever  makes  men  feel  young,"  says  Ches- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     29 

terton,  "is  great  —  a  great  war  or  a  love  story."9 
Love  stories  will  doubtless  continue  to  the  end; 
but  must  man  cease  to  feel  young  in  the  days 
when  cruelty  and  exploitation  are  obsolete? 
Nietsche  1  °  speaks  with  passionate  regret  of  a 
certain  "  lordliness,"  or  assertion  of  superiority, 
that  has  latterly  given  place  to  the  slave  morality, 
which  aims  at  "the  universal  green-meadow  hap- 
piness of  the  herd."  There  are  no  more  heroes, 
of  "lofty  spirituality,"  but  only  levellers,  timid, 
stupid,  mediocre  folk,  "  sans  genie  et  sans  esprit." 
Now  there  is  a  paradox  that  does  not  seem  to 
have  occurred  to  Nietsche,  in  the  slave  insurrec- 
he  accounts  for  this  dreary  spectacle. 


It  can  scarcely  be  a  code  of  slavishness  that  has 
enabled  slaves  to  overthrow  their  masters.  The 
morality  of  the  modern  European  democracy 
is  the  morality  of  the  strong;  of  the  many,  it  is 
true,  but  of  the—many  united  and  impassioned, 
moving  toward  the  general  end  with  good  heart. 
And  it  is  this  which  gave  mastery  to  the  once  rul- 
ing class.  Mastery  appears  wherever  action  is 
bold,  united,  and  with  the  pressure  of  interest 
behind  it;  mastery  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
airs  of  mastery,  with  Nietsche'  s  "pathos  of  dis- 
tance," separating  class  from  class.  The  "in- 
stinct for  rank,"  and  "delight  in  the  nuances  of 
reverence,"  are  not  signs.,  of  nobility,  as  Nietsche 
would  have  it.  There  is  no  nose  for  them  so 


30  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

sensitive  and  discriminating  as  that  of  the  cham- 
bermaid or  butler.  The  mere  pride  of  an  easy 
mastery  over  slaves  is  the  taint  of  every  society 
in  which  class  differences  are  recognlzeol^rfixed. 
It  attaches-to~^Hr  classes;  whether  , it  be  called 
snobbery  or  obsequiousness,  it  is  all  one.  The 
virtue  of  mastery,  on  the  other  hand,  lies  in  the 
power  and  in  the  attainment  which  it  represents. 

And  this  Nietsche  himself  fully  admits  in  his 
less  inspired  but  more  thoughtful  utterances. 
It  is  "the  constant  strugglewith  uniform  un- 
favoj3Me_jcmdjtions"  thalTSxes  the type  he  ad- 
mires. When  there  are  no  more  enemies,  "the 
bond  and  constraint  of  the  old  discipline  severs," 
and  a  rapid  decay  sets  in;  which  leads  inevitably, 
after  a  chaos  of  individualism,  to  a  period  of 
mediocrity  such  as  the  present.  In  other  words, 
so  soon  as  its  political  and  social  activities  are 
confined  to  "lording  it,"  the  aristocracy  loses  its 
vigor,  and  falls  an  easy  prey  to  democratic  or 
other  propagandists  who  want  something  and  are 
united  to  attain  it. 

Now  it  seems  that  if  man  is  not  to  become  spir- 
itually bankrupt,  he  must  be  confronted  with  un- 
favorable conditions^that  keep  him  vigilanFlihd 
alert  Nietsche  has  no  imagination  for  resist- 
ance, struggle,  and  victory,  except  as  these  arise 
in  the  war  of  man  against  man.  His  heroes  are 
Alcibiades,  Caesar,  and  Frederick  II,  "men 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     31 

predestined  for  conquering  and  circumventing 
others."  But  it  is  not  easy  for  us  of  this  day  to 
forget  the  others;  it  is  thgjgost  to_them  that  galls 
our  conscience.  We  cannot  sincerely  applaud  a 
heroism  in  which  life  is  condemned  to  feed  on 
itsefir  Shall  the  only  enemy  that  never  fails, 
the  condition  that  is  always  indifferent  if  not  un- 
favorable, namely,  the  perpetual  wear  and  drag 
of  nature,  be  forgotten  in  order  that  men  may  fall 
on  one  another?  Has  man  no  more  lordly  task 
than  that  of  destroying  what  he  holds  to  be  good  ? 
Is  there  no  more  of  "creative  plenipotence"  in 
man  than  killing  and  robbing? 

I  am  convinced  that  it  needs  only  enlighten- 
ment to  reduce  NietscjjeJ^  circumventer  of  others        / 
to  the  proportions  of  a  burglar;   and  to  enlarge 

tO  tnjlgjTfiigjr^npnrtinns  j^m^WFo  cirCUniventS 

the  blindness  of  nature,  brings Tup^he  weak  or 
faint-hearted  who  lag  behind,  and  throws  himself 
bravely  into  the  enterprise  of  steady  constructive 
civilization.  Nietscne  Is  beguiled  by~lT"IoV5*T>f 
melodrama.  He  forgets  the  real  war  for  the 
pageantry  of  an  era  that  will  pass.  As  a  mis- 
leader  of  youth  he  conspires  with  the  writers  of 
dime-novels  to  fix  the  imagination  on  false  sym- 
bols. The  small  boy  who  would  run  away  from 
home  for  the  glory  of  fighting  Indians  is  deceived; 
both  because  there  are  no  longer  any  Indians  to 
fight,  and  because  there  are  more  glorious  bat- 


32  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ties  to  be  fought  at  home.  WajLbetween  man 
and  man  is  an  obsolescent  form  of  heroism. 
There  is  every  reason,  therefore,  why  it  should 
not  be  glorified  as  the  only  occasion  capable  of 
evoking  the  great  emotions.  The  general  battle 
of  life,  the  first  and  last  battle,  is  still  on;  and  it 
has  that  in  it  of  danger  and  resistance,  of  com- 
radeship and  of  triumph,  that  can  stir  the 
blood. 

But  I  have  not  undertaken  to  make  morality 
picturesque.  I  shall  leave  that  to  other  hands. 
In  an  age  when  it  has  been  somewhat  out  of  lit- 
erary fashion,  Chesterton  "  has  found  it  possible 
even  to  proclaim  morality  as  the  latest  and  most 
enlivening  paradox.  But  I  propose  to  leave  it 
clad  in  its  own  sobriety.  Its  appeal  in  the  last 
analysis  must  be  to  a  sense  for  reality,  and  to  an 
enlightened  practical  wisdom.  Morality  is  that 
which  makes  man,  "naked,  shoeless,  and  defence- 
less" in  body,  the  master  of  the  kingdom  of  nature. 
M6rality  in  this  sense  has  never  been  more  simply 
and  eloquently  justified  than  in  the  words  which 
V  Plato  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Protagoras.  He 
rirst  describes  the  arts  with  which  men  contrived 
barely  to  sustain  themselves,  in  a  condition  no 
betteF  than  the  beasts  which  preyed  on  them  in 
their  helplessness.  It  is  then  that  through  the 
gift  of  Zeus  they  are  rescued  from  their  degrada- 
tion and  invested  with  the  forms  of  civilization. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  LIFE     33 

After  a  while  the  desire  of  self-preservation  gathered 
them  into  cities;  but  when  they  were  gathered  to- 
gether, having  no  art  of  government,  they  evil-in- 
treated  one  another,  and  were  again  in  process  of 
dispersion  and  destruction.  Zeus  feared  that  the 
entire  race  would  be  exterminated,  and  so  he  sent 
Hermes  to  them,  bearing  reverence  and  justice  to  be 
the  ordering  principles  of  cities  and  the  bonds  of 
friendship  and  conciliation.12 

But  reverence  and  justice  are  more  even  than 
the  ordering  principles  of  cities.  They  are  the 
conditions  of  the  maximum  of  attainment,  / 
whether  tnis  be  conceived  as  that  supreme  ex- 
cellence which  Plato  divined,  or  as  that  all-saving 
good  which  is  the  object  of  a  Christian  devotion 
to  humanity.  Morality  is  the  law  of  life,  from 
its  bare  preservation  to  its  supreme  fruition. 
There  is  a  liigh  pretension  in  morality  which  is 
the  necessary  consequence  of  its  motive.  But 
man  is  not,  on  that  account,  in  need  of  those 
reminders  of  failure  which  are  so  easy  to  offer, 
and  which  are  so  impotently  true;  he  needs 
rather  new  symbols  of  faith,  through  which  his 
heart  may  be  renewed,  and  his  courage  fortified 
to  proceed  with  an  undertaking  of  which  he  can- 
not see  the  end.  Faith  and  courage  have  brought 
him  thus  far: 

"Till  he  well-nigh  can  tame 
Brute  mischiefs  and  control 
Invisible  things  and  turn 
All  warring  ills  to  purposes  of  good." 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL 

'r  r*     »&>-/JU-i     «ii£< 

THERE  is  a  phrase,  "  liberty  of  conscience," 
which  well  expresses  the  modern  conception  of 
moral  obligation.  It  recognizes  that  duty  in  the 
last  analysis  is  imposed  upon  the  individual 
neither  by  society  nor  even  by  God,  but  by  him- 
self;  that  there  is  no  authority  in  moral  matters 
more  ultimate  than  a  man's  own  rational  con- 
viction.^ what  is  best. 

We  meet  here  with  the  application  to  moral- 
ity of  the  motive  which  underlies  the  whole  mod- 
ern reaction  against  medievalism,  the  motive 
which  John  Locke  so  aptly  summarized  when 
he  said,  "We  should  not  judge  of  things  by  men's 
opinions,  but  of  opinions  by  things."  *  This  is 
individualism  of  the  positive  temper,  the  protest 
againstjx)n£eniioa--aad  authority;  in  behalf,  not 
of  license,  but  of  knowledge.  Medievalism  is 
condemned,  not  for  its  universalism,  but  for  its 
arbitrariness  and  untruth;  for  its  mistaking  of 
the  weight  of  collective  opinion,  or  of  institu- 
tional prestige,  for  the  weight  of  evidence. 

This  is  the  characteristic  temper  of  the  modern 

34 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  35 

individualism,  whether  it  be  dominated  by  a  bias 
foi  senslTfo  a  bias  for  reason.  Locke,  like  his 
forerunner,  Bacon,  is  an  individualist  because  it 
is  the  individual  in  his  detachment  from  society 
that  alone  can  be  open-eyed  and  open-minded; 
who  is  qualified  to  carry  on  that  "  proper  busi- 
ness of  the  understanding,"  "to  think  of  every- 
thing just  as  it  is  in  itself."  2  Descartes,  although 
in  habit  of  mind  and  speculative  instinct  he  has  so 
little  in  common  with  the  Englishman,  neverthe- 
less finds  in  the  individual's  self -discipline  and 
concentration  the  only  hope  of~  preserving  the 
savor  of  the  salt  of  knowledge.  Thus  he  says: 

I  thought  that  the  sciences  contained  in  books, 
(such  of  them  at  least  as  are  made  up  of  .probable 
reasonings,  without  demonstrations),  composed  as 
they  are  of  the  opinions  6i  many  different  individuals 
massed  together,  are  farther  removed  from  truth 
than  the  simple  inferences  which  a  man  of  good  sense 
using  his  natural  and  unprejudiced  judgment  draws 
respecting  the  matters  of  his  experience.8 

Spinoza,  who  both  abandoned  the  world  and  was 
abandoned  by  it,  sought  an  individual  philosophy 
of  life  that  should  be  more  universal  than  the 
opinion  of  the  world  on  account  of  its  greater 
truth.  "Further  reflection  convinced  me,  that  if  I 
could  really  get  to  the  root  of  the  matter  I  should 
be  leaving  certain  evils  for  a  certain  good."  4 

This  was  the  impulse  in  which  modern  toler- 
ance of  individuaropinion  and  appeal  to  indi- 


36  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

vidual  conscience  originated.  It  was  a  protest^ 
not  against  order,  but  agaJn^t_the,jiisJi£aitening 
drag,  the  heavy  and  dull  constraint,  of  an  order 
v  externally  imposed.  Freedom  was  valued  not  for 
the  sake  of  lawlessness,  but  for  the  sake  of  a 
clearer  recognition  of  the  proper  Jaws  of  things, 
of  the  principles  that  lie  in  nature  and  civiliza- 
tion and  control  them  inherently. 

Individualism  in  this  sense  is  no^  sceptical. 
Even  a  charge  that  existing  codes  of  morality 
and  systems  of  thought  are  largely  matters  of 
social  habit,  or  rules  devised  by  church  and  state 
to  maintain  an  arbitrary  and  profitable  power, 
does  not  justify  the  inference  that  there  is  no 
truth.  For  there  is  no  dilemma  between  public 
tyranny  and  private  caprice.  On  the  contrary, 
it  means  that  tyranny  is  itself  a  form  of  caprice, 
and  that  caprice  in  any  form  must  give  way  be- 
fore reason  and  experiment.  Certain  contempo- 
rary popular  philosophers,  such  as  Wells  and 
Shaw,  appear  to  believe  that  to  repudiate  the 
rigid  conventions  of  the  day  means  to  abolish 
absolute  distinctions  utterly  and  fall  back  upon 
a  general  laxity  and  vagueness.  But  this  is  to 
throw  out  the  baby  with  the  bath.  The  evil  in 
convention  is  the  sijljstjtution  of  merely  habitual 
distinctions  for__rgal  distinctions,  and  the  only 
justification  for  an  assault  on  convention  is  the 
bringing  of  such  real  distinctions  to  light. 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  37 

The  individualist  virtually  claims  that  an  indi- 
vidual's belief,  if  it  be  critical,  is  entitled  to  prece- 
dence over  public  belief,  simply  because  the  in- 
dividual mind  is  a  better  instrument  of  knowledge 
than  the  public  mind.  It  is  the  individual  mind 
that  is  more  directly  confronted  with  the  evidence, 
more  single  and  responsive.  Individualism  is 
not,  then,  an  appeal  to  private  opinion  in  any  dis- 
paraging sense.  For,  in  so  far  as  private  opinion 
is  independent  and  truthful  in  motive,  concerning 
itself  with  its  objects  rather  than  with  the  social 
model  of  the  day,  it  is  self-corrective  and  tends 
inevitably  toward  the  common  truth.  It  is  the 
opinion  that  is  not  really  individual,  but  imita- 
tive, respectful  of  persons,  generally  submissive 
to  ulterior  motives  of  a  social  kind,  that  is  private 
in  the  bad  sense.  Its  privacy  lies  in  its  artifici- 
ality, in  its  partisanship,  and  in  its  remove  from 
the  open  daylight  of  experience. 

If,  therefore,  one  must  in  moral  matters  fina]]y 
rely  on  the  individual's  judgment,  this  in  no  way 
implies  the  breakdown  of  universal  principles. 
It  is  neither  necessary  nor  natural  thatiridividual 
judgment  should  bespeak  whim,  hasty  impulse, 
or  narrow  self-interest.  The^guardian  in  Plato's 
Republic  was  as  much  an  indwidual  jg*  the  mer- 
chant or  the  soldier.5  In  a^ense  he  was  more 
an  individual  than  these,  since  he  was  not 
swayed  by  the  crowd,  but  thought  with  freedom 


38  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

and  independence.  Nevertheless  his  thought 
embraced  the  interests  of  the  entire  community, 
and  comprehended  the  organization  and  forms 
of  adjustment  through  which  they  all  might  live 
and  thrive.  In  moral  as  in  other  matters  the 
true  appeal  of  individualism  is  to  an  intelligence 
which,  though  emancipated  from  convention,  is 
on  that  very  account  committed  to  the  general 
necessities  that  lie  in  the  field  it  seeks  to  know. 

In  view  of  these  considerations,  then,  we  may 
^  pronounce  legitimate  and  hopeful  the  moral  in- 
dividualism of  the  time.  It  implies  the  recogni- 
tion that  there  is  a  genuine  ground  for  moral 
action,  which  may  be  brought  home  to  any  indi- 
vidual mind  that  will  deal  honestly  and  directly 
with  the  facts  of  life.  Morality  is  not  a  useful 
fiction  which  must  be  protected  against  inquisi- 
tiveness  and  cherished  in  ignorance  and  servility; 
it  is  a  body  of  compelling  truth  that  will  convince 
wherever  there  is  a  capacity  to  observe  and  reason. 
It  requires  no  higher  sanction  than  the  individual, 
because  the  individual  is  society^s_organ  of  truth; 
because  only  in  the  individual  mind  is  society 
open  to  rational  conviction. 

Latitudinarianism  and  tolerance  in  this  sense 
bespeak  a  confidence  in  morality^: .ability^  to 
justifyjtself.  At  the  same  tim"e  they  represent  a 
protest  against  replacing  the  intrinsic  truth  of 
morality  by  the  arbitrary  standards  of  authority 


V 

N? 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  39 

and  convention.    Now,  while  there  is  little  need 
in  the  present  day  of  protecting  individuaJjudg- 
ment  against  encroachments  of  authority,  there/ 
can  be  no  doubt  of  the  great  need  of  protecting  itr"** 
against  the  more  insidious  encroachments  tof  con- } 
vention.    This  is  peculiarly  an  age  of  publicity./ 
Tn"e~  forces  of  suggestion  and  imitation  operate\ 
on  a  scale  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  society,  j 
Standards  and  types  readily  acquire  an  almost 
irresistible    prestige,    simply    through    becoming 
established    as    models.     And    the    sanction    of 
opinion  may  be  gained  for  almost  any  formula, 
from  a  fashion  in  hats  to  an  article  in  theology. 
Convention  can  no  longer  be   accounted   con- 
servative.   It  sanctions  promiscuously  usages  as 
venerable  as  civilization  itsefi7antt"as  transient  as 
the  fad   of  the   hour.     Democratic   institutions 
and  universal  educational  privileges  have  bred 
a  social  mass  intelligent  and  responsive  enough     - 
to  be  modish,  but  lacking  in  discrimination  and  ^ 
criticism. 


The  tyranny  of  opinion,  the  fear  of  being 
different,  has  long  since  been  recognized  as  a 
serious  hinderance  to  the  development  which  po- 
litical freedom  and  economic  opportunity  ought 
properly  to  stimulate.  But  the  moral  blindness 
to  which  it  gives  rise  has  never,  I  think,  been 
sufficiently  emphasized.  We  require  of  business 
men  only  that  measure  of  honesty  that  we  con- 


40  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ventionally  expect  in  that  type  of  occupation. 
A  politician  is  proverbially  tricky  and  self-seek- 
ing. The  artistic  temperament  would  scarcely 
be  recognized  if  it  did  not  manifest  itself  in  weak- 
ness and  excess.  It  is  as  unreasonable  to  expect 
either  tunefulness  or  humor  in  a  musical  comedy 
as  to  expect  a  statement  of  fact  in  an  advertise- 
ment. In  short,  where  any  human  activity  is  c 
conventionalized,  standards  are  arbitrarily  fixed; 
and  critical  discernment  grows  dull  if  it  "does  not 
altogether  atrophy: — It  simply  dues-iiot  occur 
to  the  great  majonfy  of  men  that  any  activity 
should  be  judged  otherwise  than  by  comparing 
it  with  the  stereotyped  average  of  the  day.  This 
is,  to  be  sure,  only  that  blindness  of  the  common 
mind  which  Socrates  'and  Plato  observed  in  their 
day,  but  it  is  now  aggravated  through  the  greater 
massiveness  and  conductivity  of  modern  society, 
hese  considerations  will  serve  both  to  intro- 
Huce  and  to  justify  my  present  undertaking.  I 
assume  that  duly  is  not  an  arbitrary  mandate 
which  the  individual  must  obey^  blindly  "or  from 
motives  of  fear;  but  the  conviction  of  moral 
truth,  the  enlightened  recognition  of  the  good.6 
Hence  I  wish  to  demonstrate  morality  to  an  indi- 
vidual reflective  mind,  open  to  the  facts  of  life, 
and  to  conviction  of  truth.  I  shall  expound 
morality  out  of  no  book  but  experience,  "that 
universal  and  publick  Manuscript,  that  lies  ex- 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  41. 

pans'd  unto  the  Eyes  of  all."  Tojrefer  morality 
to  custom,  to  conscience  in  the  sense  of  individual 
prepossession  or  institutional  authority,  even  if 
these  be  interpreted  as  the  oracles  of  God,  is  to 
justihjhe_sus£icion  that  it  is  groundless  and  arbi- 
trary, at  best  a  matter  of  lovalty  or  good  form. 
I  shall  present  morality  as  a  set  of  principles  as 
inherent  in  conduct,  as  unmistakably  valid  there, 
asisgravitation  in  the  heavens.  I  shall  hope  to 
make  it  appear  that  the  saving  grace  of  morality 
is  directly  operative  in  life;~needing  ncTproof  from 
any  adventitious  source,  because  it  provesjiself 
under  observation. 

I  shall  address  myself  to  an  individual  pro- 
tagonist whom  I  shall  designate  in  the  second 
person;  and  whom  I  shall  suppose  to  exhibit 
that  yielding  reluctance  which  is  the  mark  of  a 
mind  that  for  very  love  of  truth  will  not  too  readily 
assent. 

As  I  am  to  pr^e^  morality  to  you,  I  accept  the 
burden  of  proof;  but  you  are  not  on  that  account 
totally  without  responsibility  in  the  matter.  As 
you  must  not  stop  your  ears,  or  close  your  bodily 
eyes,  so  you  must  not  shut  the  eye  of  the  mind, 
or  harden  your  heart.  Were  you  to  adopt  such 
an  attitude  I  should  be  compelled  to  set  argu- 
ment aside,  and  resort  to  such  practical  measures 
as  might  shock  or  entice  you  into  reasonableness. 
Or,  I  might  abandon  you  as  incorrigible.  It  is 


42  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

clear  that  I  can  as  little  show  reasons  to  a  man 
who  will  not  think  them  with  me,  as  I  can  show 
the  road  to  one  who  will  not  look  where  I  point 
it  out.  A  very  large  amount  of  moral  exhorta- 
v  tion  consists  in  the  attempt  to  overcome  apathy  Jfe 
and  inattention.  Such  exhortation  cannot  in  the  * 
nature  of  the  case  be  logical,  because  the  sub- 
ject's logical  organ  is  not  as  yet  functioning.  I 
doubt  if  there  is  any  discussion  of  moral  matters 
in  common  life  in  which  this  form  of  appeal  is 
not  present  in  a  measure  sufficient  to  obscure 
the  merits  of  the  question  at  issue.  I  desire  for 
present  purposes  to  eliminate  as  far  as  possible 
all  conflict  and  prejudices,  and  thus  to  dispense 
with  zeal  and  eloquence.  I  shall  assume,  there- 
fore, that  you  propose  to  be  reasonable  concern- 
ing this  moral  affair.  By  this  I  mean  simply 
that  you  shall  directly  observe  the  facts  of  life, 
report  candidly  on  these  facts,  and  fully  accept 
the  implications  of  any  judgment  to  which  you 
may  commit  yourself.  I  may  phrase  your  pledge 
of  reasonableness  thus:  "Show  what  is  right, 
and  that  it  is  right,  and  I  will  accept  it.  I  mean 
my  action  to  be  good,  and  ask  only  to  have  the 
good  demonstrated  to  me,  that  I  may  intelligently 
adopt  it." 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  43 

^c  / 


ft^   It  is  commonly  believed  that  whereas  thfijjgic    / 

^    of  prudence  is  unimpeachable,  there  is  a  hiatus  be- 

+  *!j  ''tween  this  level  of  morality  and  those  above.   To 

drink  one's  self  to  death  is  a  species  of  folly  that 

the  poorest  intelligence  can  understand;   but  the 

£''   folly  in  meanness,  injustice,  or  impiety  is  a  harder 

3  »  ^matter.     Believing  as  I  do  that  the  folly  is  equally 

demonstrable  in  all  of  these  cases,  I  propose  not 

to  accept  your  ready  assent  in  the  simpler  case 

until  its  grounds  have  been  made  as  clear  and 

definite  as  possible.    I  feel  convinced  that  pru- 

dence is  not  so  simple  a  matter  as  appears;    in 

fact  that  it  involves  the  whole  ethical  dialectic. 

I  find  you,  let  us  say,  eating  an  apple  with  evi- 
dent relish;  and  I  ask  you  why.  If  you  are  can- 
did, and  free  from  pedantry,  you  will  doubtless 
reply  that  it  is  because  you  like  to.  In  this  par- 
ticular connection  I  can  conceive  no  profounder 
utterance.  But  we  may  obtain  a  phraseology 
that  will  suit  our  theoretical  purposes  more  con- 
veniently and  serve  better  to  fix  the  matter  in 
our  minds.  Your  eating  of  the  apple  is  a  process 
that  tends  within  certain  limits  to  continue  and 
jratore  itself,  to  supply  the  Actions  L  and  ._.  objects 
necessary  to  its  own  maintenance.  I  have  pro- 
posed that  we  call  such  a  process  an  interest.  In 
that  it  is  a  part  of  that  very  complex  physical  and 


44  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

moral  thing  called  "you,"  it  is  your  interest,  and 
it  also  has,  of  course,  its  special  subject-matter, 
in  this  case  the  eating  of  an  apple.  It  involves 
specific  movements  of  body,  and  makes  a  specific 
requisition  on  the  environment.  Now,  still  con- 
fining ourselves  strictly  to  this  interest,  we  shall 
doubtless  agree  to  call  any  phase  of  it  in  which  it 
&7\  is  fulfilled,  in  which  its~exercise  is  fostered  and 
unimpeded,  good.  And  we  shall  doubtless  agree 
to  attach  the  same  term,  although  perhaps  in  a 
less  direct  sense,  to  that  part  of  the  environment 
which  it  requires,  in  this  case  the  apple,  and  to 
the  subsidiary  actions  which  mediate  it,  such  as 
the  grasping  of  the  apple,  or  the  biting  and  masti- 
cation of  it.  I  mean  only  that  these  modes  or  fac- 
tors of  the  interest  are  injpjne^sense  good;  quali- 
fications and  limitations  may  be  adjudicated  later. 

In  this  case,  which  so  far  as  I  can  see  is  the 
simplest  possible  case  of  the  sort  of  value  that 
enters  into  life,  the  value  is  supplied  by  a  spe- 
of  process  which  we  maycall  anjjntec- 
and  it  issupplied  thereby  absolutely,  funda- 
mentally. It  makes  both  this  apple  and  your 
eating  of  it  good  that  you  should  like  to  eat  it.  If 
you  could  explain  every  action  as  you  explain 
this  action,  when  it  is  thus  isolated,  there  would 
be  no  moral  problem. 

We  may  now  safely  open  the  door  to  the  ob- 
jections that  have  been  pressing  for  admission. 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  45 

The  first  to  appear  is  an  old  friend  among  phil- 
osophers; but  one  whose  reputation  so  far  ex- 
ceeds its  merits  that  it  must  be  submitted  to  vig- 
ilant examination.  It  is  objected  (I  am  sure  that 
you  have  long  wanted  to  say  this)  that  your 
repast  is  good  for  you,  good  fwm  your  point  of 
view,  but  flntr  nn  that  account  really  good.  These 
are  the  terms  with  which  it  is  customary  to  con- 
found any  serious  judgment  of  truth;  and  they 
acquire  a  peculiar  force  here  because  we  seem  to 
have  invited  their  application.  We  have  agreed 
that  your  action  is  good  in  that  it  suits  your  inter- 
esj:,  and  thus~si3ein  to  have  defined  its  goodness 
as  relajiie-4cryou.  Now,  if  we  are  to  avoid  a 
confusion  of  mind  that  would  terminate  our  in- 
vestigation here  and  now,  we  must  bring  to  light 
a  latent  ambiguity. 

We  have,  it  is  true,  discovered  goodness  to  be  / 
a  pha§e_pf  a  process  called  "interest?'  which  is/ 
qualified  further,  through  the  use  of  a  personal 
pronoun.  The  nature  of  goodness,  in  other  words, 
is  such  as  to  involve  certain  specific  relations,  here 
involving  a  person  or  subject.  Goodness"  is  not 
peculiar  in  this  respect;  for  there  are  very  few 
things  in  this  world  that  do  not  involve  specific 
relajtipns.  This  isThe  case,  for  example,  with 
planets,  levers,  and  brothers.  There  is  no  planet 
without  its  sun,  no  lever  without  its  fulcrum,  no 
brother  who  is  not  somebody's  brother. 


46  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

But  the  relationship  in  the  case  of  goodness 
is  supposed  to  "Be  a  more__seriojis  matter;  suffi- 
ciently serious  to  discredit  the  meaning  of  good- 
ness, or  make  all  judgments  concerning  goodness 
merely  expressions  oLJiias.  The  supposition  is 
due  to  the  confusion  of  a  relativity  in  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  the  judgment/)with  a  relativity  of 
the  judgment  itself  to  the  individual  that  gives 
utterance  to  it.  Thus  the  judgment,  "You  like 
apples,"  deals  with  your  interest  and  the  objects 
relating  to  it;  but  the  judgment  itself  is  not 
therefore  biassed.  It  is  no  more  an  expression 
of  your  opinion  than  it  is  of  mine;  it  is  a  formula- 
tion of  what  occurs  in  the  field  of  experience  open 
to  all  observers.  A  judgment  concerning  only 
you,  is  utterly  different  from  a  judgment  repre- 
senting only  you.  The  latter,  if  there  were  such 
a  thing,  would  be  ungrounded,  and  would  justify 
the  sceptic's  suspicioHsT^The  confusion  is  possi- 
ble here  simply  because  the  subject-matter  of  the 
judgment  in  question  is  itself  a  judgment.  It 
could  scarcely  arise  in  the  parallel  cases.  The 
lever  cannot  be  defined  except  in  relation  to  its 
fulcrum.  This  may  be  loosely  generalized  and 
made  to  read:  judgments  concerning  a  lever  are 
relative  to  a  fulcrum.  It  might  even  be  said  that 
a  lever  is  a  lever  only  from  the  point  of  view  of  its 
own  fulcrum.  But  the  most  unscrupulous  quib- 
bler  would  scarcely  offer  this  as  evidence  against 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  47 

the  objective  validity  of  our  knowledge  of  levers. 
Your  brother  is  necessarily  related  to  you;  but 
the  proposition  denning  the  relationship  is  not  on 
that  account  relative,  that  is,  peculiarly  yours  or 
any  one  else's.  Fraternity  is  a  complex  involving 
a  personal  connection,  but  is  none  the  less  entirely 
objective^  And  precisely  the  same  thing  is"  litre 
cTgoodness.  To  observe  it  adequately  one  must 
bring""mto  view  that  complex  object  called  an 
invest,  which  may  be  yours  or  his  or  mine;  but 
it  will  be  brought  none  the  less  into  our  common 
view,  and  observed  as  any  other  object  may  be 
observed.  Because  goodness  is  inherent  in  a 
process  involving  instincts,  desires,  or  persons, 
it  is  not  one  whit  less  valid  or  objective  than 
it  would  be  if  it  involved  the  sun  or  the  first 
law  of  motion. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  a  much  more  fruitful  ob- 
jection. Suppose  it  be  objected  that  your  action, 
though  good  when  thus  artificially  isolated,  will 
in  the  concrete  case^have  to  be  considered  jnore 
broadly  before  ^thy  final  j|ir1gmpnf'  rar>  *1A  pro- 
nounced  on  it.  To  this  objection  I  fully  assent. 
It  implies  that  although  we  have  fully  defined 
a  hypothetical  case  of  goodness,  we  have  so  far 
simplified  the  conditions  as  to  make  our  conclu- 
sions inadequate  to  moral  experience.  Accept- 
ing this  qualification,  it  is  now  in  order  to,  com- 
plicate the  situation;  but  retaining  our  analysis 


48  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

of  the  elementary  process,  and  employing  terms 
in  the  meaning  derived  therefrom. 

Let  us  suppose  that  the  apple  which  you  enjoy 
eating,  is  my  apple,  and  that  I  delight  in  keeping 
it  for  my  own  uses.  Such  being  the  case,  we  fall 
to  wrangling  over  it,  and  your  appetite  is  like  to 
go  unappeased.  I  now  have  evidence  to  show 
you  that  your  act  of  violent  appropriation  does 
not  conduceTo  your  interest.  This  is  simply 
an  experimental  and  empirical  fact.  I  am  in  a 
position  to  show  you  that  the  character  of  your 
action  is  other  than  you  supposed,  that  you  were 
under  a  misapprehension  as  to  its  goodness.  It 
leads  not  to  the  enjoyable  activity  which  interests 
you,  but  to  a  series  of  bodily  exertions  and  a  state 
of  unfulfilled  longing  in  which  you  have  no  in- 
terest at  all.  Indeed  your  action  is  a  hinderance 
to  your  interest;  in  other  words>  i£  bgd. 

But  I  proceed  to  point  out  to  you  the  further 
fact  that,  if  you  will  buy  the  apple  and  thus  con- 
ciliate me,  you  may  get  rid  of  my  interference  and 
proceed  with  your  activity.  Your  purchase  is 
now  justified  in  precisely  the  same  manner  as 
your  original  seizure  of  the  object.  If  you  are 
asked  why  you  do  it,  you  may  still  reply,  "  Be- 
cause I  like  apples." 

Now,  it  would  accord  with  the  customary  use 
of  terms  to  caHjugh  action^pn  your  part  prudence; 
and  prudence  is  commonly  regarded  as  a  virtue 


LOGIC   OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  49 

or  moral  principle.     But  in  prudence  the  mean- i 
mg  or  morality  is  as  yet  only  partially  realized; 
it  is  morality  upon  a  relatively  low  level.     Hence 
it  is  desirable  to  avoid  reading  too  much  into  it. 

On  the  one  hand,  prudence  does  involve  the 
checking  of  one  interest  in  consequence  of  the  / 
presence  of  another.  You  Eave"~noted  my  inter- 
est, acknowledged  it  as  having  its  own  claims,  and 
made  room  for  it.  Therein  your  action  differs 
signally  from  your  dealings  with  your  mechanical 
environment.  And  it  is  this  contact  and  adjust- 
ment of  interests,  this  practical  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  the  success  of  one  interest  requires 
that  other  interests  be  respected,  and  dealt  with 
in  a  special  manner  appropriate  to  them  as  inter- 
ests, that  marks  the  procedure  as  moral.  On  the 
other  hand,  while  you  have  acknowledged  my 
interest,  you  have  not  adopted  it.  You  have  con- 
cerned yourself  with  my  love  of  property  only  in 
so  far  as  it  affected  your  fondness  for  apples. 
In  order  to  appeal  to  you  I  have  had  to  Appeal  to 
this,  as  yet  your  only  interest.  The  moral  jalue 
of  your  action  lies  whoTiy"ih  its  conduciveness  to 
this  interest,  because  it  is  controlled  wholly  by 
it.  You  are  as  yet  only  a  complex  acting  con- 
sistently in^such_^e^~as  to  continue  an  eating  of 
apples.  This  formula  is  entirely  sufficient  as  a 
summary  of  your  conduct,  even  after  you  have 
learned  to  respect  my  property.  And  therein  lies 


\ 


\ 


50  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

its   merely   prudential    character.    In 
thn<;_gtrjrt]y  anH  fl.hst.rar.tly  regard  ftHj 
preference,  no  subordination  of  motives.    Action 
is  controlled  by  an  exclusive  and  insistent  desire, 


which  limits  itself  only  with  a  view  to  effective- 


It  would  appear,  then,  that  if  I  am  to  justify 
those  types  of  action  which  are  regarded  as  more 
completely  moral,  /  must  persuade  you  to  a&opt 
interests  that  at  any  given  instant  do  not  move  you* 
I  must  persuade  you  ttkforego  your  present  incli- 
nation for  the  sake  of  another;  to  judge  between 
interests,  and  prefer  that  which  on  grounds  that 
you  qannot  reasonably  deny  is  the  more  valid. 
,  In  other  words,  I  must  define  a  logicaLjxansition 
'*  from  prudence  to  preference,  or  moral  purpose. 

Let  us  suppose  that,  in  spite  of  your  liking, 
apples  do  not  " agree  with"  you.  It  is,  for  ex- 
ample, pertinent  to  remark  that  if  you  eat  the 
apple  to-day  you  cannot  go  to  the  play  to-morrow. 
Our  parley  proceeds  as  follows: 

"Just  now  I  am  eating  apples.  Sufficient 
unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 

"But  you  acknowledge  your  fondness  for  the 
theatre." 

"Yes,  but  that  doesn't  interest  me  now." 

"Nevertheless  you  recognize  the   interest   in 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  51 

play-going  as  a  real  one,  dormant  to-day,  tempo- 
rarily eclipsed  by  another  interest,  but  certain  to 
revive  to-morrow?" 

"I  do." 

"And  you  admit  that,  apart  from  the  chance  of 
your  death  in  the  meantime,  a  chance  so  small  as 
to  be  negligible,  an  interest  to-morrow  is  as  real 
asjm  interest  to-day?" 
^ 


"Now,  recognizing  these  two  interests,  and 
keeping  them  firmly  in  view,  observe  the  conse- 
quences of  your  action  if  you  persist  in  eating 
the  apple,  and  pronounce  judgment  upon  it." 

"It  would  seem  to  be  bojii  good  and  bad;  good 
in  its  conduciveness  to  the  satisfaction  of  my 
present  TppetTte,  bad  in  its  preventing  my  enjoy- 
ment of  the  play." 

In  your  last  reply  you  have  fairly  stated  the 
problem.  You  are  not  permitted  to  escape  the 
dilemma  by  simply  neglecting  the  facts,  for  this 
would  be  contrary  to  the  original  agreement  bind- 
ing  you  to  be  and  remain  open-minded.  And 
you  are  now  as  concerned  as  I  to  solve  the  prob- 
lem by  defining  a  reorganization  of  the  situation 
that  would  permit  of  an  action  unequivocally 
good,  that  is  altogether  conducive  to  the  fulfilment 
of  interest. 

To  understand  what  would  constitute  a  solution 
of  this  moral  problem  it  is  important  to  observe, 


52  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

\  in  the  first  place,  that  an  action  wholly  con- 
^  ducive  to  both  interests  would  take  precedence 
of  an  action *which  fulfilled  the  one  but  sacrificed 
the  other.  Were  it  possible  for  you  to  eat  the 
apple  now  and  go  to  the  play  to-morrow,  your 
rational  course  would  be  to  allow  your  present 
impulse  free  play.  You  would  thus  be  alive  to 
the  total  situation;  your  action  would  in  reality 
be-^egulated  by  both  interests,  or  rather  by  a 
larger  interest  embracing  and  providing  for  both. 
An  action  thus  controlled  would  have  a  more 
adequate  justification  than  an  action  conceived 
with  reference  to  the  one  interest  exclusively, 
and  merely  happening  to  be  favorable  to  the  other 
interest  also.  Or  suppose  that,  by  substituting  a 
different  species  of  apple  for  the  one  first  selected, 
you  could  avoid  disagreeable  consequences,  and 
without  loss  of  immediate  gratification.  In  this 
case  you  would  have  corrected  your  original 
action  and  adopted  a  course  that  proved  itself 
better,  because  conducive  to  the  fulfilment  of 
to-morrow's  interest  as  well  as  to-day's. 

We  have  thus  arrived  at  a  very  important  con- 
ception, that  of  a  higher  interest  possessing  a 
certain  prio£ity_^n_its_claims.  ihe  higher  in- 
terest as  I  have  defined  it  is  simply  the  greater 
fc  interest,  and  greater  in  the  sense  that  it  exceeds  a 
narrower  interest  through  embracing  it  and  add- 
ingJo_iL  Your  interest  in  TKtTfulfilment  of  to- 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  53 

day's  interest  and  to-morrow's,  is  demonstrably 
greater  than  your  interest  in  the  fulfilment  of 
either  exclusively,  because  it  provides  for  each 
and  more.  In  this  perfectly  definite  settse  your 
preference  may  be  justified. 

Let  us  now  apply  this  principle  of  preference 
to  the  more  complex  case  in  which  there  js  no 
available  action  which  will  fulfil  both  interests. 
Suppose  that  you  cannot  both  eat  apples  to-day 
and  go  to  the  play  to-morrow.  How  is  one  to 
define  a  good  action  in  the  premises?  In  the 
first  place  the  good  act  originally  conceived  in 
terms  of  the  free  play  of  the  present  impulse  is 
proved  to  be  illusory.  There  is  no  goodjjpt  until 
your  interests  are  reorganized.  In  other  words, 
the  higher  interest,  which  is  entitled  to  preference, 
requires  some  modification  of  the  participating 
interests.  But  the  higher  interest  owes  its  title 
to  its  liberality  or  comprehensiveness.  Hence 
it  must  represent  the  maximum  fulfilment  of  both 
interests  which  the  conditions  allow.  Such  a  con- 
trolling interest  may  require  you  altogether  to 
forego  the  present  indulgence,  or  it  may  merely 
require  that  it  be  severely  limited.  In  any  case, 
the  controlling  interest  will  represent  both  inter- 
ests, modified,  postponed,  or  suppressed,  as  is 
.necessary  for  their  maximum  joint  fulfilment. 
The  higher  interest  which  thus  ^places  the  orig-C 
inal  interest,  and  which  is  entitled  to  do  so  onlyS 


54  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

(because  it  incorporates  them,  I  propose  to  call 
( moyil  f>ur<base. 

There  are  two  highly  important  principles 
which  we  have  been  brought  to  recognize  through 
this  analysis  of  preference,  and  it  will  be  worth 
our  while  briefly  to  resume  them. 
?)  In  the  first  place,  no  interest  is  entitled  to  your 
exclusive  regard  merely  because  it  happens  at 
afty  given  time  to  be  moving  you.  I  shall  call 
this  the  principle  of  the  objective  validity  of  in- 
terests. I  mean  simply  that  an  interest  is  none 
the  less  an  interest  because  it  does  not  coincide 
with  an  individual's  momentary  inclination.  In 
reminding  you  of  an  interest  overlooked,  I  have 
not  sought  to  justify  it  by  subsuming  it  under  your 
present  interest.  I  have  not  tried  to  prove  that 
it  is  to  your  interest  as  an  epicure  that  you  should 
go  to  the  play.  I  have  simply  pointed  out  the 
other  interest,  and  allowed  it  to  stand  on  its 
^merits.  In  ethical  theories  of  a  certain  type,  and 
rin  much  impromptu  moralizing,  it  is  assumed 
that  there  is  no  legitimate  appeal  except  in  behalf 
of  interests  that  are  at  the  instant  already  alive. 
This  is  as  absurd  as  to  suppose  that  in  order  to 
bring  you  to  the  truth  in  any  purely  theoretical 
matter,  I  must  confine  myself  to  evidence  that  you 
already  recognize.  In  both  cases  your  individual 
experience  at  any  given  time  may  be  narrow  and 
limited  owing  to  causes  that  are  in  the  highest 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAB  55' 

degree  arbitrary.  It  may  be  advisable  that  I 
should  solicit  your  attention  by  connecting  what 
I  have  to  offer  with  what  is  already  familiar  to 
you;  but  this  is  a  psychological  expedient.  My 
appeal  is  logically  supported  by  objects,  by  prin- 
ciples, by  data  which  are  in  no  wise  dependent 
for  their  claims  on  their  connection  with  your 
present  stock  in  trade. 

Chesterton  refers  to  one  who  "had  that  rational 
and  deliberate  preference  which  will  always  to 
the  end  trouble  the  peace  of  the  world,  the  rational 
and  deliberate  preference  for  a  short  life  and  a 
merry  one."  7  I  cannot  regard  such  hedonistic < 
opportunism  as  other  than  wantonness  or  wilful< 
carelessness'.  It  may  be  deliberate  in  the  sense* 
of  being  consciously  persisted  in,  but  I  cannot 
find  any  rationality  in  it.  It  arises  naturally 
enough  through  the  greater  vividness  of  the  in- 
terests that  are  already  adopted  and  proved;  but 
all  prejudices  arise  from  such  accidents,  and  they 
are  none  the  less  on  that  account  absolutely  an- 
tagonistic to  the  rational  attitude — that  willingness 
that  things  should  be  for  me  even  as  they  are. 
/hi  the  second  place,  it  has  appeared  that  there 
is  no  demonstrable  priority  of  one -simple  inter- 
est otfer  another  differing  only  qualitatively  from 
it.  I  propose  to  call  this  the  "principle  of  the 
quantitative  basis  of  preference.  I  know  that  the 
term  quantity  has  an  ugly  sound  in  this  context. 


\ 


56  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

But  I  believe  that  this  is  due  simply  to  a  false  ab- 
straction. Two  good  books  are  not  better  than 
one  because  two  is  better  than  one,  but  because 
in  two  of  a  given  unit  of  goodness  there  is  more 
of  goodness  than  in  one.  Two  is  more  than  one, 
but  not  more  good,  unless  that  which  is  counted 
is  itself  good.  Nor  is  two  longer  or  heavier  than 
one,  unless  the  units  numbered  happen  to  be 
those  of  length  or  weight.  To  prefer  two  inter- 
ests to  one  does  not  imply  that  one  is  a  lover  of 
quantity,  but  a  lover  ofgood;  of  that  which  if  it 
be  and  remain  good,  themore  the  better. 

At  any  rate  it  seems  to  me  a  matter  of  simple 
candor  to  admit  that  "more"  is  a  term  implying 
quantity,  whether  it  be  "more  room,"  "more 
weight,"  "more  goodness,"  or  "more  beauty." 
It  seems  to  me  to  be  equally  evident  that  "more" 
implies  commensurable  magnitude;  and  that 
commensurability  implies  the  existence  of  a 
common  unit  in  the  terms  compared.  Two 
inches  are  more  than  one  inch  in  that  they  include 
one  inch  and  also  another  like  unit.  Now  in 
moral  matters  the  unit  of  value  is  the  fulfilment 
of  the  simple  interest;  and  in  consequence  L 
see  no  way  of  demonstrating  that  one  such  simple  \ 
interest  is  more  good  than  another,  as  I  see  no] 
way  of  demonstrating  that  one  inch  is  longer  than 
another.  But  I  do  see  that  if  I  can  carry  a  simpleC 
interest  over  into  a  compound  one,  and  there  both  | 


LOGIC   OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  57 

retain  it  and  add  to  it,  I  shall  have  more  — 
more~By  wliat  I  add.  Such  comparison  is  never 
a  simple  matter,  perhaps  in  any  concrete  case 
never  wholly  conclusive.  But  I  can  conceive  no 
more  important  and  more  clarifying  declaration 
of  principle.  It  means  that  any  rational  decision 
as  tojhe  precedence  of  social  ideals,  or  as  to  his- 
torical  progress  from  good  to  better,  must  be 
based  on  width  of  representation  and  weight  of 
incentive. 


If  what  I  have  said  thus  far  has  proved  con- 
vincing to  you,  this  may  be  owing  to  the  fact  that 
you  have  not  been  called  upon  to  adopt  any  inter- 
est beyond  what  are  conventionally  regarded  as 
your  own.  In  moral  matters  it  is  customary  to  » 
attach  a  certain  finality  to  personal  pronouns. 
But  there  are  no  terms  in  common  use  which  have 
so  rough  and  loose  a  meaning,  which  cover  so  V 

equivocal  and  confused  an  experience;  albeit  the 
necessity  and  frequency  of  their  use  has  made  \ 
them  standard  currency  and  polished  them  into  a 
sort  of  deceptive  smoothness  to  the  touch.  There 
is  no  term  so  altogether  handy  as  the  term  "I," 
nor  is  there  any  so  embarrassed  when  called  on 
to  show  its  credentials  in  the  shape  of  clear  and 
verifiable  experience.  If,  then,  you  stand  upon  * 

your  interests  I  shall  not  be  convinced,  for  I  shall  • 

'• 


58  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

not  know  what  you  mean.  There  is  no  sense 
in  which  you  are  a  finished  and  demonstrable 
fact.  My  dealings  with  you,  and  this  is  peculiarly 
true  of  my  rational  dealings  with  you,  cannot  be 
tested  by  you  in  any  absolute  or  fixed  sense,  simply 
because  they  may  make  you,  as  they  may  make  me. 
Let  us  return  to  our  test  case.  You  are  the 

P 

epicure,  and  I  am  the  proprietor;  you  seize  my 
apple,  and  I  protest.  But  now  I  no  longer  ap- 
peal to  you  merely  as  one  who  enjoys  eating  apples, 
and  warn  you  that  you  are  selecting  the  wrong 
means  of  attaining  that  end.  I  simply  inform 
you  that  the  apple  is  my  property,  and  that  I  de- 
sire to  retain  it.  I  appeal  to  you  to  respect  my/ 
wishes,  at  least  to  the  extent  of  non-interference./ 
If  you  reply  that  this  is  no  interest  that  you  ac-) 
knowledge,  then  I  am  in  a  position  to  inform  you. 
For  on  no  ground  can  you  attach  finality  to  the  set 
of  interests  which  at  any  given  time  you  choose  to 
acknowledge.  If  I  may  remind  you  of  a  forgottenS 
interest,  I  may  inform  you  of  a  new  interest".  In 
the  one  case,  you  acknowledge  that  there  is  such 
an  interest  in  that  you  anticipate  its  revival,  and 
realize  that  its  mere  absence  is  no  proof  of  its 
non-existence.  You  recognize  it  as  having  its 
roots  in  your  organism,  and  its  opportunity  for 
exercise  in  certain  definable  and  predictable  cir- 
cumstances. This  is  what  you  mean  when  you 
acknowledge  that  you  will  desire  to  go  to  the  play 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  59 

to-morrow.  But  the  evidence  of  the  existence  of 
still  another  interest,  in  this  case  mine,  is  no  less 
convincing?  Like  your  own  latent-Interest,  it 
does  not  at  the  instant  move  you.  But  it  has 
the  specific  character  of  an  interest,  and  its  place 
in  the  existent  world  through  its  relation  to  my 
organism.  Recognizing  it  as  an  interest,  you  / 
cannot  in  the  given  case  fail  to  observe  that  it 
qualifies  your  action  as  good  or  bad,  through  being 
affected  by  it.  If  your  action  fulfils  your  inter- 
est and  thwarts  mine,  it  is  again  mixed,  both  good 
and  bad.  In  order  to  define  the  good  act  in  the  \ 
premises  it  is  necessary,  as  in  the  previous  case,  to 
define  a  purpose  which  shall  embrace  both  in- 
terests and  regulate  action  with  a  view  to  their 
joint. fulfilment. 

It  is  customary  to  argue  this  principle  of  im- 
partiality, according  to  which  the  merely  personal 
consideration  is  declared  to  be  irrelevant  to  the 
determination  of  moral  value,  by  a  critique  of 
egoism.  The  reductio  ad  absurdum  of  egoism 
has~recently  been  formulated  by  G.  E.  Moore 
in  as  thorough  and  conclusive  a  manner  as  could 
be  desired.8  That  writer  analyzes  egoism  into  a 
series  of  propositions  all  of  which  are  equivocal, 
false,  or,  so  far  as  true,  non-egoistic  in  their  mean- 
ing. I  shall  reduce  Moore's  propositions  to  two, 
and  modify  them  to  suit  my  own  conception  of  9 
goodness. 


60  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

As  an  egoist  you  may,  in  the  first  place,  affirm 
that  there  are  no  interests  but  yours.  This  propo- 
sition, however,  is  manifestly  false.  Accept  any 
definition  of  an  interest  or  desire  that  you  will, 
and  I  can  find  indefinitely  many  cases  answering 
your  definition  and  falling  outside  the  class  of 
those  which  you  claim  as  your  own.  None  of 
these,  if  it  conforms  fully  to  your  definition,  is 
any  the  less  an  interest  or  desire  than  the  one  that 
happens  to  be  moving  you  at  the  instant.  There 
would  be  as  good  ground  for  saying  that  your 
brother  was  the  only  brother,  or  your  book  the 
only  book.  Even  if  you  abate  the  rigor  of  the 
proposition,  you  cannot  escape  its  essential 
falsity.  If  you  affirm  that  there  are  no  interests 
but  the  interests  of  each,  or  that  each  man's  inter- 
ests are  the  only  interests,  you  flatly  contradict 
yourself.  If  you  affirm  that  your  interests  are 
of  superior  importance,  that  they  are  exceptional, 
peculiar,  entitled  to  pre-eminence — this  is  virtually 
equivalent  to  your  original  proposition.  The 
respect  in  which  your  interests  seem  different  from 
all  others  either  enters  into  your  definition  of 
interest,  in  which  case  it  becomes  general;  or  it 
is  some  adventitious  circumstance  that  does  not 
belong  to  your  interests  as  such,  some  accident  of 
proximity  which  may  have  psychological  or  in- 
strumental importance,  but  cannot  rightly  affect 
your  judgment  of  good.  For  goodness  lies  in 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  61 

the  objective  bearing  of  your  action  on  such 
things  as  interests;  precisely  as  the  diagonal  is 
a  line  connecting  the  vertices  of  opposite  angles 
in  a  square,  independently  of  all  circumstances 
that  do  not  affect  the  generic  character  of  the 
square. 

2  JLn  the  second  place,  you  may  affirm  that  for 
you  there  are  no  interests  but  your  own.  But  this 
is  an  equivocal  proposition.  It  may  mean  that 
in  your  opinion  there  are  none,  in  which  case  you 
admit  the  probable  falsity  of  your  judgment 
through  contrasting  it  with  the  consensus  of 
opinion;  through  attributing  it  to  your  narrow- 
ness and  false  perspective.  Your  offering  it  as 
your  opinion  gives  the  proposition  at  best  a 
tentative  form;  the  question  of  its  truth  remains 
to  be  adjudicated.  I  need  only  present  other 
interests  answering  your  description  of  an  interest 
to  prove  you  mistaken.  And  if  you  were  to  gen- 
eralize your  proposition  and  say  that  each  man 
thinks  his  own  interests  the  only  interests,  you 
would  be  doubly  wrong,  in  that  the  generalization 
would  be  unwarranted,  and  the  opinion  imputed 
to  each  man  false. 

Or,  your  claim  that  for  you  there  are  no  inter- 
ests but  your  own,  might  be  taken  to  mean  that 
in  some  sense  you  must  confine  your  endeavors 
to  the  fulfilment  of  your  own.  interests?"  Other- 
wise, you  may  argue,  the  practical  situation  would 


62  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

reach  a  dead-lock,  a  state  of  hopeless  confusion  in 
which  each  individual  neglected  his  own  proper 
affairs  for  the  sake  of  those  he  had  neither  the 
means  nor  the  competence  to  serve.  Now  this  is 
indisputably  true,  but  it  is  not  egoism.  The 
judgment  that  each  individual  must  labor  where 
he  may  do  so  most  effectively,  that  he  must  as- 
sume not  only  a  general  responsibility  for  all 
interests  affected  by  his  action,  but  also  a  special 
responsibility  for  those  with  whose  direct  execu- 
tion he  is  charged,  is  an  impartial  judgment.  It 
expresses  a  broad  and  intelligent  view  of  the  total 
situation.  In  the  fable  of  the  fox  and  the  grapes, 
the  action  of  the  fox  is  due  to  the  folly  of  a  too 
fluent  attention.  Similarly,  he  who  lets  go  his 
present  hold  of  the  web  of  interests  simply  because 
his  eye  happens  to  alight  on  another  vantage- 
point,  is  as  much  the  blind  slave  of  novelty  as 
the  self-centred  man  is  of  familiarity.  In  bojth- 
cases  the  fault  is  one  of  narrowness  of  range,  of 
arbitrary  exclusion. 

Egoists,  then,  are  guilty  of  a  kind  of  stupid 
provinciality.  They  are  like  those  closet-phil- 
osophers whom  Locke  describes. 

The  truth  is,  they  canton  out  to  themselves  a  little 
Goshen  in  the  intellectual  world,  where  light  shines 
and  as  they  conclude,  day  blesses  them;  but  the  rest 
of  that  vast  expansum  they  give  up  to  night  and  dark- 
ness, and  so  avoid  coming  near  it.  They  have  a  pretty 
traffic  with  known  correspondents,  in  some  little 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL   63 

creek;  within  that  they  confine  themselves,  and  are 
dexterous  managers  enough  of  the  wares  and  prod- 
ucts of  that  corner  with  which  they  content  them- 
selves, but  will  not  venture  out  into  the  great  ocean 
of  knowledge,  to  survey  the  riches  that  nature  hath 
stored  other  parts  with,  no  less  genuine,  no  less  solid, 
no  less  useful  than  what  has  fallen  to  their  lot,  in  the 
admired  plenty  and  sufficiency  of  their  own  little 
spot,  which  to  them  contains  whatsoever  is  good  in 
the  universe.9 

The  impartial  or  judiciaLestimate  of  value  is 
properly  recognized  as  essential  to  the  meaning 
of  justice.  I  do  not  here  refer  to  justice  in  the 
more  narrow  and  familiar  sense.  Retributive 
justice,  or  justice  in  any  of  its  special  legal  as- 
pects, is  a  pojitical  rather  than  an  ethical  matter.10 
But  political  justice  must  be  based  on  ethical 
justice.  "  And  to  the  definition  of  this  fundamental 
principle  some  contribution  has  now  been  made. 
There  is  a  parody  of  justice,  a  justice  of  cojide- 
scension,  that  the  principles  already  defined  do 
discredit.  For  it  has  sometimes  been  thought 
that  justice  required  only  a  deliberate  estimate  of 
interests  by  those  best  qualified  to  judge,  as 
though  the  settlement  of  moral  issues  were  a 
matter  of  connoisseurship.  The__vicipusness  of 
this  conception  lies  in  ^he  fact  that  qualitatively 
regarded  there  is  no  superiority  or  inferiority 
among  interests.  The  relish  of  caviare  is  no  better, 
ncTworse,  than  the  relish  of  bread.  Preference 
among  interests  must  be  based  on  their  difference 


64  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

of  representation,  or  their  difference  of  compati- 
bility. A  wide  and  safe  interest  is  better  than  a 
narrow  and  mischievous  interest,  better  for  its 
liberality.  It  follows  that  no  interest  can  be  con- 
demned except  upon  grounds  that  recognize  its 
claims,  and  aim  so  far  as  possible  to  provide  for 
it  among  the  rest.  No.  interest  can  rationally  be 
rejected  as  having  no  value,  but  only  as  involving 
tooj^reat  a  cost. 

But  though  these  considerations  are  sufficient 
to  expose  moral  snobbery,  they  do  not  fully  de- 
fine justice.  For  justice  imputes  a  certain  in- 
violability to  the  claims  of  that  unit  of  life  which 
we  term  loosely  a  human,  personal,  moral,  free, 
or  rational  being.  There  is  some  sense  in  which 
you  are_a  finality:  making  it  improper  for  me 
simply  to  dispose  of  you,  even  if  it  be  my  sincere 
intention  to  promote  thereby  the  well-being  of 
humanity.  You  are  not  merely  one  interest 
among  the  rest,  to  be  counted,  adjusted,  or  sup- 
pressed by  some  court  of  moral  appraisement. 
I  think  I  may  safely  assume  that  there  is  to-day 
an  established  conscience  supporting  Kant's  dic- 
tum, "So  act  as  to  treat  humanity,  whether  in 
thine  own  person  or  in  that  of  any  other,  in  every 
case  as  an  end  withal,  never  as  means  only."11 

Let  me  state  briefly  what  appears  to  me  to  be 
the  properbasis  of  this  judgment.  I  have  said 
that  I  am  not  entitled  simply  to  suppress  your 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  65 

action  as  may  be  approved  by  my  own  judgment. 
Now,  did  I  propose  to  do  so,  what  justification^ 
should  I  offer?  I  should  present,  no  doubt,  the 
facts  in  the  case.  I  should  show  you  the  incom- 
patibility of  your  presently  adopted  course  with 
the  general  good.  But  let  us  suppose  that  you 
defend  your  action  on  the  same  grounds.  In 
that  case  your  endorsement  of  your  action  has 
precisely  the  same  formal  justification  as  my 
condemnation  of  it.  Our  equality  lies  in  the  fact 
that  we  are  both  claiming  candidly  to  represent 
the  truth.  In  the  last  analysis  our  equality  is 
based  on  the  identity  of  the  objective  content  to 
which  we  appeal.  As  witnesses  of  a  specific  truth 
within  the  range  of  both,  the  meanest  mortal 
alive  and  the  omniscient  intelligence  are  equal; 
and  simply  because  the  identical  truth  is  as  valid 
in  the  mouth  of  one  as  in  the  mouth  of  the  other. 
Where  it  is  a  matter  of  disagreement  between  you 
and  me,  our  equality  lies  in  the  fact  that  neither 
can  do  more  than  appeal  to  the  object.  Neither 
has  any  authority;  there  is  no  authority  in  matters 
of  truth,  but  only  evidence.  The  only  rational 
solution  of  disagreement  is  agreement;  that  is, 
the  coalescence  of  opinions  in  the  common  ob- 
ject to  which  they  refer  and  toward  which  they 
converge.  The  method  of  approximating  agree- 
ment is  discussion;  which  is  the  attempt  of  each 
of  two  knowers  to  avail  himself  of  all  the  organs 


66  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

and  instruments  of  knowledge  possessed  by  the 
other.  Discussion  involves  mutual  respect,  in 
which  each  party  acknowledges  the  finality  of 
the  other  as  a  vehicle  of  truth.  This,  I  believe, 
is  that  moral  equality,  that  dignity  and  ultimate 
responsibility  attaching  to  all  rational  beings 
alike,  without  which  justice  cannot  be  fulfilled. 
Justice,  then,  embraces  these  two  ideas.  ;/In 
the  first  place,  in  estimating  the  goodness  or  evil 
iJ$  action,  merely  personal  or  party  connections 
must  not  be  admitted  in  evidence*  ^n  the  second 
place,  the  deliberate  judgment  of  any  rationally 
minded  individual  is  entitlei_iQ_  respect  as  a 
source  of  truth.  Conflict  must  in  the  last  analysis 
be  overcome  by  the  congruence  of  impartial 
minds.  Hence  the  justification  of  reciprocal  re- 
spect among  persons  who  think  honestly;  and  of 
a  public  forum  to  which  all  shall  have  access,  and 
where  business  shall  be  transacted  under  the 
vigilant  eye  of  him  who  is  most  concerned.  A 
candid  mind  is  the  last  court  of  jurisdiction.  So 
long  as  the  procedure  of  society  is  questioned  or 
resented  by  one  honest  conscience,  it  is  lacking 
in  complete  verification,  and  its  findings  are  open 
to  doubt. 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  67 

Enough  has  already  been  said  to  show  that 
the  goodness  of  action  must  be  determined  with 
reference  to  nothing  less  than  the  totality  of  all 
affected  interests.  For  this  highest  principle  I 
have  reserved  the  honored  term,  good-will.  Neither 
you  nor  I  can  reasonably  decline  to  consider  the 
bearing  of  our  actions  on  any  interest  whatsoever. 
Right  conduct,  since  it  Is  inconsistent  with  the 
least  ruthlessness,  must  inevitably  in  the  end  as- 
sume the  form  of  humanity  and  piety. 

I  know  that  it  is  not  customary  to  suppose  that 
devotion  to  the  service  of  mankind  is  rational; 
it  is  taken  to  be  gratuitous,  if  not  quixotic.  But 
once  let  it  be  granted  that  goodness  accrues  to 
action  in  proportion  to  its  fruitfulness,  it  follows 
that  that  action  is  most  blessed  that  is  dedicated 
without^  reservation  to  the  general  life.  There  is 
only  one  course  which  can  recommend  itself  to 
that  fair  and  open  mind  to  which  I  conceive  my- 
self to  be  addressing  this  appeal:  namely,  so  to 
act  in  fulfilment  of  the  interest  in  hand,  as  either 
to~  promote  or  make  room  for  all  other  interests. 

And  this  is  true  not  only  of  such  interests  as 
may  be  assumed  to  exist,  as  constitute  one's 
present  neighborhood,  near  and  remote;  it  is 
also  true  of  interests  that  are  as  yet  only  poten- 
tialities, denned  by  the  capacity  of  living  things 


68  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

to  grow.  If  it  be  unreasonable  to  neglect  the 
bearing  of  one's  action  on  interests  which  one 
happens  not  to  be  familiar  with,  it  is  unreasonable 
to  neglect  its  bearing  on  interests  not  yet  asserted, 
wherever  there  is  a  presumption  that  such  may 
come  to  be.  In  other  words,  one's  moral  account 
cannot  be  made  up  without  a  provision  for  entries 
that  have  yet  to  be  made.  Such  a  provision  will 
take  the  form  of  a  purpose  to  grow,  an  ardent 
spirit  of  liberality,  an  eagerness  for  novelty. 
Good-will  builds  better  than  it  knows;  it  is  open 
toward  the  future;  committed  to  a  task  which 
requires  foresight  and  also  faith.  But  such  de- 
votion, with  all  its  extravagance,  with  its  very  rev- 
erence for  what  is  not  known  but  must  neverthe- 
less be  accounted  best,  is  only,  after  all,  the  part 
(of  fearless  good  sense.  If  anything  be  good,  and 
i  if  it  be  reasonable  to  pursue  it,  then  is  the.  maxi- 
{  mum  of  that  thing  the  best,  and  the  pursuit  of  it 
(  wholly  reasonable. 

It  may  even  be  said  that  thrift  is  only  a  lesser 
form  of  piety,  and  piety  the  whole  of  thrift.  For, 
first  and  last,  goodness  lies  in  the_saving  and  in- 
"*crease  of  life.  The  justification  of  any  act  lies 
irfTts  being  projrident;  in  its  yield  of  immediate 
fulfilment  andTFs  generous  allowance  for  the 
other  interest,  the  remote  interest,  and  the  inter- 
est that  is  as  yet  only  surmised.  The  good  will 
is  the  will  to  participate  productively,  permis- 


LOGIC   OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  69 

sively,  and  formally  in  the  total  undertaking  of 
life.  Only  when  this  intention  controls  one's 
decisions  can  one  act  without  fear  of  one's  own 
critical  reflecti 


Let  me  add  a  word  concerning  the  part  played 
by  the  imagination  in  enforcing  the  logic  of  mo- 
rality. An  enlightened  conscience,  or  a  rational 
conviction  of  duty,  will  consist  essentially  in  the 
viewing  of  life  with  a  certain  remove  from  its 
local  incidents.  In  conduct,  as  in  all  matters 
where  validity  or  truth  is  concerned,  the  critical 
consciousness  must  disengage  itself  and  view 
the  course  of  things  in  its  due  proportions,  allow-  . 
ing  one's  dearest  interests  to  lie  where  they  lie 
among  the  rest.  I  have  read  so  admirable  a  rep- 
resentation of  the  moraLfunction  of  the  logical 
imagination^  in  a  recent  paper  by  H.  G.  Lord,  V 

that  I  beg  leave  to  quote  it  here  in  full : 

* 

As  between  one's  self  and  another  "the  image  of  an 
impartial  outsider  who  acts  as  our  judge"  is  none  / 
other  than  this  rational  insight  into  the  relation  ex- 
isting between  two  who  are  cognitively  to  each  other 
just  this  and  not  anything  else.  It  is  the  yisjon  of 
the  actual  reciprocity  of  the  two.  From  this  comes 
the  Golden  Rule  in  its  various  forms:  "Love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself,"  "Do  unto  others  as  ye  would 
be  done  by,"  "Put  yourself  in  his  place."  But, 
furthermore,  even  this  simpler  justice  necessitates 
the  power  not  only  to  "see  yourself  as  others  see 


70  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

you,"  but  even  more  adequately,  and  as  we  say 
more  justly,  to  put  yourself  where  you  belong  in  a 
system  of  many,  in  which  you  not  only  count  for  one 
and  no  more  than  one,  but  in  which  you  count  for 
just  that  sort  of  one,  fulfilling  just  that  sort  of  function 
which  your  place  in  the  rationally  conceived  system 
involves  or  necessitates.  And  this  gives  us  a  form  of 
justice  much  more  profound  and  complex  than  that 
of  the  Golden  Rule,  and  requiring  constructive  imag- 
ination and  rational  insight  of  the  very  highest  order. 
And  with  this  insight  goes  necessarily  an  inevitable- 
ness,  an  inexorableness,  and,  as  we  say  metaphori- 
cally, an  imperativeness,  which  no  amount  of  twisting 
and  intellectual  thimble-rigging  can  avoid.  The 
logic  of  the  system  cannot  be  avoided  any  more  than 
a  step  in  a  mathematical  demonstration.  ...  So 
long  as  it  stands,  its  parts,  elements,  or  members  are 
placed,  and  there  is  set  over  each  of  them  the  imper- 
ative of  the  system  in  which  they  are  members.12 

It  has  sometimes  been  thought  that  a  fair  view 
of  life  will  inhibit  action  through  discrediting 
party  zeal.  John  Davidson  describes  what  he 
calls  "the  apathy  of  intelligence." 

To  be  strong  to  the  end,  it  is  necessary  to  shut 
many  windows,  to  be  deaf  on  either  side  of  the  head 
at  will,  to  fetter  the  mind.  .  .  .  The  perfect  intelli- 
gence cannot  fight,  cannot  compete.  Intelligence, 
fully  awake,  is  doomed  to  understand,  and  can  no 
more  take  part  hi  the  disputes  of  men  than  in  the  dis- 
putes of  other  male  creatures.18 

Now  it  is  true  that  intelligence  inhibits  wanton- 
ness; for  intelligence,  fully  awake,"~knows  how 
unreasonable  it  is  that  one  who  loves  life  should 


LOGIC  OF  THE  MORAL  APPEAL  ji 

destroy  it.  But  because  intelligence  affirms  the  2  9 
motive  of  each  combatant,  it  must  move  action 
to  the  saving  of  both.  Where  intelligence  is 
-  directed  to  the  inner  impulse  of  life,  it  is  not 
apatheTTc,  buTsympathetic.  Its  span  is  widened, 
while' its  jgSblive^ is  not  divided  but  multiplied. 
Nor  does .jt_  follow  that  when  duty  is  inter- 
preted as  enlightenment,  life  must  lose  its  ro- 
mantic flavor  and  cease  to  require  the  old  high- 
spirited  virtues.  It  is  this  very  linking  of  life 
to  life,  this  abandonment  of  one's  self  to  the  prodi- 
gious of  the  whole,  that  provides  the  true  object 
of  reverence,  and  permits  the  sense  of  mystery 
to  remain  even  after  the  light  has  come.  Al- 
though the  way  of  morality  is  evident  and  well- 
proved  in  direction,  being  plain  to  whomever 
will  look  at  life  with  a  fair  and  commanding  eye, 
achievement  is  difficult,  the  great  victories  hard 
won,  and  the  certain  prospect  bounded  by  a  near 
horizon.  Even  though  life  be  rationalized,  it 
will  none  the  less  call  for  intrepid  faith;  'for  what 
Maeterlinck  calls  "the  heroic,  cloud-tipped,  inde- 
fatigable energy  of  our  conscience."  " 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE 


WE  have  thus  far  dealt  with  the  general  con- 
tent of  morality,  and  with  its  logical  grouncls. 
Morality  islxily  life  where  life  is  organized  and 
confident,  the  struggle  for  mere  existence  being 
replaced  with  the  prospect  of  a  progressive  and 
limitless  attainment.  The  good  is  fulfilled  de- 
sire; the  moral^good  the  fulfilment  of  a  universal 
economy,  embracing  all  desires,  actual  and  possi- 
ble, and  providing  for  them  as  liberally  as  their 
mutual  relations  permit.  The  moral  good  is 
simply  the  greatest  possible  good,  where  good  in 
the  broad  generic  sense  means  any  object  of 
interest  whatsoever,  anything  proved  worth  the 
seeking  from  the  fact  that  some  unit  of  life  actually 
seeks  it.  Whatever  is  prized  is  on  that  account 
precious. 

The  logic  of  morality  rests  on  this  objective 
relation  between  interest  and  value.  The  maxi- 
mum good  has  the  greatest  weight,  its  claims  are 
entitled  to  priority,  because  it  surpasses  any 
limited  good  in  incentive  and  promise  of  fulfil- 
ment. Duty  in  this  logical  sense  is  simply  the 
72 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  73 

control  of  particular  actions  by  a  full  recognition 
of  their  consequences. 

the  present  chapter  the  attention  is  shifted 
from  the  whole  to  the  partT~bT~r2oTaiity.  I  am 
not  one  of  those  who  stale~~rrraeJwm  the  casuisti- 
cal application  of  ethical  principles.  Every  par- 
ticular  action  vyl^aHy  involves  considerations  of 
enormous  complexity;  and  the  individual  must 
be  mainly  guided  by  general  rules  of  conduct  or 
virtues,  which  are  proved  by  the  cumulative  ex- 
perience of  the  race.  Life  itself  is  the"  only  ade- 
quate experiment  in  living.  Virtues  are  properly 
verified  only  in  the  history  of  society,  in  the  de- 
^lopment  of  institutions,  and  in  the  evidences  of 
^Dgress  in  civilization  at  large.  I  shall  confine 
myself,  then,  to  such  verified  virtues,  and  seek  to 
show  their_relation  to  morality  as  a  whole.1 

Virtues  vjiry  in  generality  according  to  the  de- 
gree to  which  they  refer  to  special  circumstance; 
and,  since  there  is  no  limit  to  the  variety  of  cir- 
cumstance, there  is,  strictly  speaking,  no  final  and 
comprehensive  order  of  virtues.  The  term  may  be 
applied  with  equal  propriety  to  types  of  action  as 
universal  as  justice  and  as  particular  as  conjugal 
fidelity.  We  shall  find  it  necessary  to  confine 
ourselves  to  the  more  general  and  fundamental 
virtues. 

I  have  adopted  a  method  of  classification  to 
which  I  attachTno  absolute  importance,  but  which 


74  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

will,  I  trust,  serve  to  amplify  and  illuminate  the 
fundamental  conceptions  which  I  have  already 
formulated.  I  shall  aim,  in  the  first  place,  to 
m^e  explicit  a  distinction  which  has  hitherto 
beeii  obscured.  I  refer  to  the  difference  between 
the  material  «and  the  formal  aspects  of  morality. 
On  thejmgjiano!,  action  is  aki^s  engaged  in  the 
fulfilment  of  an  immediate  interest;  this  consti- 
tutes its  material  goodness.  On  the  other  hand, 
every  moral  action  is  limited  or  regulated  by  the 
provision  which  it  makes  for  •ulterior  interests; 
this  constitutes  its  formal  goodness.  Let  me 
make  this  difference  more  clear. 

A  particularjiction  is  invariably  connected  witii 
a  particular  interest;  and  in  so  far  as  it  is  st^ 
cessful  it  will  thus  be  directly  fruitful  of  fulfilment. 
And  it  matters  not  how  broad  ajmrpose  consti- 
tutes its  ultimate__motive;  for  purposes  can  be 
served  only  through  a  variety  of  activities,  each 
of  which  will  have  its  proximate  interest  and  its 
own  continuous  yield  of  satisfaction.  Life  pays 
as  it  goes,  even  though  it  goes  to  the  length  of 
serving  humanity  at  large,  and  the  larger  enter- 
prises owe  their  very  justification  to  this  additive 
and  cumulative  principle. 

But  if  action  is  to  be  moral  it  must  always  look 
beyond  the  present  satisfaction.  It  must  submit 
to  such  checks  as  are  necessary  for  the  realization 
of  a  greater  good.  Indeed,  action  is  not  wholly 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  75 

good  until  it  is  controlled  with  reference  to  the 
fulfilment  of  the  totality  of  interests. 

iffollows,  then,  that  every  action  may  be  judged    S 
in   two  respects:  first,  in  respect  of  its 
diate  return  of  fulfilment;  second,  in  res 


its  tearing  on  all  res^flfe  intej^R.  Every 
good  action  wilM^'«bt^^^rofitable  and  safe; 
both  self-sustanK^and  also  serviceable  to  the 
whole.  4* 

The  necessity  of  determining  the  relajjye  weight 
which  is  to  be  given  to  these  two  considerations 
accounts  for  the  peculiar  delicacy  of^the  art  of 
life,  since  it  makes  almost  inevitable  either  the 
one  or  the  other  of  two  opposite  errors  of  exag- 
Jfcatign.    The   undue  "O^efTion   of  the   present 
interest   constitutes    materialism,    in    the    moral 
sense.     Materialism   is    a   forfeiture   of   greater  { 
good  through  preoccupation  with  nearer  good.  \ 
It  appears  in  an  individual's  neglect  of  his  fel- 
low's interest,  in  his  too  easy  satisfaction  with  good 
already  attained,  in  short-sighted  policy  on  any 
scale.    Formalism,  on  the  other  hand,  signifies^ 
the  improvident  exaggeration  of  ulterior  motives. ' 
It  is  due  to  a  misapprehension  concerning  the 
relation  between  higher  and  lower  interests.     I    \ 
have  sought  to  make  it  clear  that  higher  interests    ' 
owe  their  eminence,  not  to  any  intrinsic  quality 
of  their  own,  but  to  the  fact  that  "tneFsave  and 
promote  lower  interests^    Formalism  is  the  re- 


76  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

jection  of  lower  interests  in  the  name  of  some 
good  that  without  these  interests  isjiothing. 
The  conflict  between  the  material  and  formal 

v  Drives  m  life  is  present  in  every  moral  crisis, 
af^cQialifies  the  meaning  of  every  moral,  idea. 
It  may  even  .provoke  a  social  revolution,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  Puritan  f^lutiooin  England.  The 
Puritan  is  still  the  symbol  ofnBlal  rigor  and  so- 

I  briety,  as  the  Cavalier  is  the  symbol  of  the  love 
of  life.  The  full  meaning  of  morality  tends  con- 
stantly to  be  confused  through  identifying  it  ex- 
clusively.wJJth.  fHe  wie  or  the  other  of  these  motives. 
Thus  morality  has  come,  on  the  whole,  to  be 
associated  with  constraint  and  discipline,  in  both 
a  favorable  and  a  disparaging  sense.  This  has 
led  to  its  being  rejected  as  a  falsification  of  life  by 
those  who  insist  that  every  good  thing  is  free  and 
fair  and  pleasant.  And,  even  among  those  who 
recognize  the  vital  necessity  of  discipline,  moral- 
ity is  so  narrowed  to  that  component,  that  it  com- 
monly suggests  only  those  scruples  and  inhibitions 
which  destroy  the  spontaneity  and  whole-hearted- 
ness  of  every  activity. 

That  morality  should  tend  to  be  identified  with 
its  format  rather  than  its  material  aspect  is  not 

\     steange;  for  it  is  the  formal  motive  which  is  crit- 
ical and  corrective,  substituting  a  conscious  re- 
~"  construction  of  interests  for  their  initial  move- 
ment.    It  is  this  fact  which  gives  to  duty  that 


THE  ORD^R  OF  VIRTUE  77 

sense  of  compulsion  which  is  so  invariably  as- 
sociated with  it.  Duty  is  opposed  to  the  line  of 
least__resistance,  whenever  life  is  dominated  by 
any  motive  short  of  the  absolute^  goodwill.  Thus 
among  the  Greeks,  Bi/crj  is  opposed  to  ySia.2  This 
means  simply  that  because  the  principles  of 
social  organization  are  not  as  yet  thoroughly  5 
assimilated,  their  adoption  requires  attention  and 
effort.  And  a  similar  opposition  may  appear 
at  either  a  higher  or  lower  level,  between  the 
momentary  impulse  and  the  law  of  prudence,  or 
between  the  habit  of  worldliness  and  the  law  of 
piety. 

In  connection  with  this  broad  difference^be- 
tween  the  material  and  formal  aspects  of  life,  it 
is  interesting  to  observe  a  certain  difference  of 
leniency  in  the  pojDuJar  judgment  Materialism 
is  more  heartily  cOn4emnecl>  because  he  who  is 
guiltyoT  it  is  not  alive  to  the  general  good. 
He  is  morally  unregenerate.  Formalism,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  good-hearted  or  well-intentioned. 
He  who  is  guilty  of  it  may  be  ridiculed  as  un- 
practical, or  pitied  for  his  misguided  zeal;  but 
society  rarely  offers  to  chastise  him.  For  he 
has  submitted  to  discipline,  and  if  he  is  not  the 
friend  of  man,  it  is  not  because  of  any  profit  that 
he  has  reserved  for  himself. 

In  the  arrangement  which  follows  I  shall  use 
this  difference  between  the  material  and  formal 


78  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

aspects  of  morality  to  supplement  the  main  prin- 
ciple of  classification,  which  is  that  difference  of 
level  or  range,  of  which  I  have  already  made 
some  use  in  the  previous  chapter,  and  which  I 
shall  now  define  more  precisely.  In  morality  life 
is  so  organized  as  to  provide  for  interests  as 
liberally  and  comprehensively  as  possible.  But 
the  principles  through  which  such  organization  is 
effected  will  differ  in  the  degree  to  which  they 
accomplish  that  end.  Hence  it  is  possible  to  de- 
fine several  economies  or  stages  of  organization 
whicfr  are  successively  more  compIefeT//  The 
simple  interest,  lirst,  is  tEe~  "isolated  interest, 
pursued  regardlessly  of  other  interests;  in  other 
words,  not  as  yet  brought  under  the  form  of 
morality,  ^he  reciprocity  of  interests,  represents 
that  rudimentary  form  of  morality  in  which 
interests  enter  only  into  an  external  relation, 
through  which  they  secure  an  exchange  of  bene- 
fits without  abandoning  their  independence. "SMn 
the  incorporation  of  interests,  elementary  inter- 
ests are  unified  through  a  purpose  which  sub- 
ordinates and  regulates  them,  t  'The  fraternity  of 
interests,  is  that  organization  in  which  the  rational 
or  personal  unit  of  interest  is  recognized  asjinal, 
and  respected  wherever  it  is  met.  But  there 
must  also  be  some  last  economy,  in  which  pro- 
vision is  formally  made  for  any  interest  whatso- 
ever that  may  assert  itself.  This  is  the  realm  of 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  79 

good-will,  or,  as  I  shall  call  it  for  the  sake  of  sym- 
jT7metry,  the  universal  system  of  interests.    I  shall 
so  construe  these  economies  as  to  make  the  broader 
or  more  inclusive  comprehend  jhe  narrower. 

Now  each  of  these  economies  possesses  its 
characteristic  principle  of  organization,  or  typ- 
ical mode  oi  action;  and  this  enables  us  to  de- 
fine five,,  prime  virtues:  intelligence,  prudence, 
purpose,  justice,  and  good-will.  From  each  of 
these  virtues  there  accrues  to  life  a  characteristic 
benefit:  from  intelligence,  satisfaction;  from 
prudence,  health;  from  purpose,  achievement; 
from  justice,  rational  intercourse ;  and  from  good- 
will, religion.  The  absence  of  these  virtues  de- 
fines a  group  of  negative  vices:  incapacity,  im- 
prudence, aimlessness,  injustice,  and  irreverence. 
Finally,  applying  the  distinction  between  for- 
malism and  materialism,  we  obtain  two  further 
series  of  vices;  for,  with  two  exceptions,  it  js  possi- 
ble in  each  econom^either  to  exaggerate  the  prin- 
ciple of  organization,  and  "thus  neglect*  the  con- 
st ftuent  interests  which  it  is  intended  to  organize; 
orro  exaggerate  the  good  attained,  and  thus  neg- 
lect the  wider  spheres  beyond.  There  will  thus 
be  a  formalistic  series  of  errors:  asceticism,  sen- 
timentalism,  anarchism,  mysticism;  and  a  mate- 
rialistic series:  overindulgence,  sordidness,  big- 
otry or  egoism,  worldliness.  Since  materialism 
is  in  each  case  due  to  the  lack  of  the  next  higher 


8o  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

principle  of  organization,  there  is  no  real  differ- 
ence T)etween  the  materialism  of  one  economy 
and  the  negative  vice  of  the  next.  But  I  have 
thought  it  worth  while  to  retain  both  series,  be- 
cause they  represent  a  difference  of  emphasis 
which  it  is  customary  to  make.  Thus  there  is 
no  real  difference  between  overindulgence  and 
imprudence;  but  one  refers  to  the  excess,  and 
the  other  to  the  deficiency,  in  an  activity  which  is 
excessive  in  its  fulfilment  of  a  present  interest, 
and  deficient  in  its  regard  for  ulterior  interests. 

I  have  thought  it  best  for  the  purpose  of  clear 
presentation  to  tabulate  these  virtues  and  vices; 
and  it  proves  convenient,  also,  to  adopt  a  fixed 
nomenclature.  It  is  unfortunate  that  the  terms 
must  be  drawn  from  common  speech;  for  it  is 
impossible  that  the  meaning  assigned  to  them 
in  the  course  of  a  methodical  analysis  like  the 
present,  should  exactly  coincide  with  that  which 
they  have  acquired  in  their  looser  application  to 
daily  life.  But  I  shall  endeavor  always  to  make 
plain  the  sense  in  which  I  use  them;  and,  thus 
guarded,  they  will  serve  to  mark  out  a  series  of 
special  topics  which  it  is  important  briefly  to 
review. 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE 


81 


Universal  Syste 
&i  Interests 

Fraternity  of 
Interests 

Incorporation 
Interests 

Reciprocity  o 
Interests 

C/) 
§' 

1 

ECONOMY 

3 

a 

<•*• 

O 

j 

| 

§ 

*^ 

c 

3 

n> 

jS 

1 

i 

3 

i 

1 

0 

f 

H 

a 
w 

c 

Ct> 

8 

1 
t 

Rational 
Intercourse 

Achievemen 

S-* 

Satisfaction 

VALUE 

2 

K..^ 

W—  i 

W 

HH 

£ 
1 

1 

1 

I 

1 

1 

w 

r> 

s 

2 

1 

«J? 

< 

O 

0 

w 

Mysticism 

Anarchism 

Sentimen- 
talism 

Asceticism 

FORMALISM 

Worldline 

w  w 

Sordidnes 

Overindu 
gence 

MATERIAL] 

8 

cH 

1 

en 

We  have  already  had  occasion  to  remark  that 
no  w0ra/  value  attaches  to  the  successes  and  fail- 
ures of  the  jsolated  or  simple  interest.  Thus  it 
is  customary  not  to  apply  judgments  of  approval 
or  condemnation  to  the  vicissitudes  of  animal 
life.  So  wholesale  a  generalization  is  undoubt- 
edly false;  but  at  any  rate  it  is  based  on  the  sup- 
position that  the  motive  in  animal  life  is  always 
simple.  And  similarly,  whenever  human  action 
is  regarded  only  with  reference  to  the  impulse  it 
immediately  lerves,  it  is  judged  to  be  successful 
or  futile,  but  never  right  or  wrong.  These  prop- 
erties are  reserved  for  such  action  as  is  controlled, 
or  is  capable  of  being  controlled,  with  reference 
both  to  an  immediate  and  also  an  ulterior  inter- 
est. But  since  the  difference  between  goodness 
in  the  wider  generic  sense  and  goodness  in  the 
moral  sense  is  one  of  complexity,  it  is  proper  and 
illuminating  to  bring  them  into  one  orderly  pro- 
gression. 

The  root-value,  then,  of  which^all  the  higher 
moral  values  are  compounded,  is  the  fulfilment 
.  satisfaction- t>f  the  particular  lulel'e'ijL-  This 
*  fundamental  value  is  conditioned  by  a  form  of 
organization,  which  I  propose  in  a  restricted 
sense  to  term  intelligence.  I  mean  the  capacity 
which  every  living  interest  must  possess  to  util- 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE          83 

ize  the  environment,  to  turn  it  to  its  own  ad- 
vantage. This  is  the  distinguishing  and  essen- 
tial capacity_ofjjfe  in  every- form.  A  plant  can 
continue  to  exist,  and  a  sculptor  can  model  a 
statue,  only  through  being  so  organized  as  to  be 
able  to  assimilate  what  the  environment  offers. 
Whether  it  be  called  tropism  or  technique,  it  is 
all  one.  Intelligence  in  this  sense  may  be  said  to 
be  the  elementary  virtue,  conditioning  success  on 
every  plane  of  activity. 

In  using  such  terms  as  "satisfaction"  and 
" success"  interchangeably  with  so  irreproach- 
able a  term  as  "fulfilment,"  I  may,  until  my 
meaning  is  wholly  clear,  seem  to  degrade  morality. 
But  the  tone  of  disparagement  in  these  first  two 
terms  is  due  to  then:  having  acquired  certain 
arbitrary  associations.  It  is  supposed  that  to 
be  satisfied  is  to  be  complacent,  and  that  to  be 
successful  is  to  be  hard  and  worldly.  Now,  a 
narrow  satisfaction  and  a  blind  success  are 
morally  evil;  but  satisfaction  and  success  may 
be  taken  up  into  a  life  that  is  wholly  wise  and 
devoted.  They  will,  in  fact,  constitute  the  real 
body  of  value  in  any  practical  enterprise,  from 
the  least  to  the  greatest. 

The  absence  of  intelligence,  which  I  shall 
term  incapacity,  is  the  one  ab 


feet  from  which  life  may  suffer.    Incapacity  em- 
braces maladaptation,  dulness,  feebleness,  sick- 


84  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ness,  and  death.  Like  its  opposite  it  does  not  enter 
into  the  moral  account  except  in  so  far  as  it  af- 
fects a  group  of  interests,  through  being  prejudi- 
cial to  an  individual's  efficiency  or  a  community's 
welfare;  but  it  will  impair  and  annul  attain- 
ment upon  any  plane.  The  fault  of  incapacity 
attaches  not  only  to  life  that  is  rudimentary  or 
defective,  but  also  to  the  mechanical  processes 
which  have  not  been  assimilated  to  any  interest 
and  thus  lie  outside  the  realm  of  value.  In- 
capacity in  this  sense  is  that  metaphysical  evil 
of  which  philosophers  speak.  It  testifies  to  the 
fact  that  the  cosmos  is  only  partially  subject  to 
judgments  either  of  good  or  of  evil;  that  value 
has  a  genesis  and  a  history  within  an  environ- 
ment that  is  at  best  plastic  and  progressively 
submissive. 

In  terms  of  intelligence  and  incapacity,  the 
basal  .excellence  and  the  basal  fault,  it  is  possible 
to  define  that  whole  affair  of 'which  morality  is 
the  constructive  phase:  the  attempt  of  life  to  es- 
tablish itself  in  the  midst  of  primordial  lifeless- 
ness,  to  avert  dissolution  and  death,  and  to  ex- 
tend and  amplify  itself  to  the  uttermost. 

Within  the    economy   of  the   simple    interest 

/  there  is  no  ^possibility  of  formalism,  since  there 

is  no  subordination  of  interesttojnythirig-liigher 

than  itself.     But  we  meet  here  with  materialism 

in  its  purest  form.     Overindulgence  is  thefault 


s 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  85 

which  attaches  to  the  exclusive  insistence  of  the 
isolated  interest  on  itself;  when  it  grows  head- 
strong, and  is  like  to  defeat  itself  through  being 
blindly  preoccupied. 

The  evil  of  overindulgence  arises_from  two 
natural  causes.  ^;In  the  first  place  an  interest 
is  essentially  self-perpetuating;  in  spite  of  peri- 
odic moments  of  satiety,  an  interest  fulfilled  is 
renewed  and  accelerated.  Just  in  so  far  as  it  is 
clearly  distinguished  it  possesses  an  impetus  of 
its  own,  by  which  it  tends  to  excess,  until  cor- 
rected by  the  protest  of  some  other  interest  which 
it  infringes/?'  ) i  Overindulgence  is  most  common 
where  such  consequences  are  delayed  or  obscured 
by  artificial  means;  hence  its  prevalence  among 
those  who  can  afford  for  a  time  to  dissipate  their 
strength,  or  have  some  means  of  replenishing  it. 
jAnd  imprudence  is  common  where  the  penalty  is 
insidious.  The  corruption  entailed  by  gluttony, 
inebriety,  and  incontinence  may  be  slow  and 
doubtful,  or  apparently  remitted  in  moments  of 
recovery;  but  if  one  indulge  himself  in  foolhardi- 
ness  or  violence,  he  is  like  to  be  repaid  on  the 
spot.  Hence  the  latter  forms  of  imprudence 
are  more  rare.  To  avoid  imprudence,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  discount  that  aspect  which  the  interest 
wears  within  the  period  of  its  immediate  fulfil- 
ment, and  thus  avoid  the  necessity  of  repeating 
the  hard  and  wasteful  lesson  of  experience.  This 


86  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

truth,  which  is  the  first  principle  of  all  practical 
wisdom,  has  been  graphically  reprepresented  in 
Jeremy  Taylor's  Rules  and  Exercises  of  Holy 
Living  : 

Look  upon  pleasures  not  upon  that  side  that  is 
next  the  sun,  or  where  they  look  beauteously,  that  is, 
as  they  come  towards  you  to  be  enjoyed;  for  then  they 
paint  and  smile,  and  dress  themselves  up  in  tinsel 
and  glass  gems  and  counterfeit  imagery;  but  when 
thou  hast  rifled  and  discomposed  them  with  enjoy- 
ing their  false  beauties,  and  that  they  begin  to  go 
off,  then  behold  them  in  their  nakedness  and  weari- 
ness. See  what  a  sigh  and  sorrow,  what  naked  and 
unhandsome  proportions  and  a  filthy  carcass  they 
discover;  and  the  next  time  they  counterfeit,  remember 
what  you  have  already  discovered,  and  be  no  more 
abused.1 

?  There  is  a  second  source  of  overindulgence 
in  the  ever-increasing  complexity  of  the  moral 
economy.  The  more  numerous  the  interests, 
the  more  difficult  the  task  of  attending  to  their 
connections  and  managing  their  adjustment. 
Not  only  is  the  need  of  prudence  never  out- 
grown; it  steadily  acquires  both  a  greater  urgency 
and  a  greater  difficulty. 

If  incapacity  may  be  said  to  be  the  metaphysi- 
cal evil,  the  taint  of  the  cosmos  at  large,1joyer- 
frp  ^\c\   tn  V  thr  original  sin, 


the  taint  of  life  itself.  It  is  life's  offence  against 
itself,  the  denial  of  greater  life  for  the  sake  of  the 
little  in  hand.  It  is  the  perennial  failure  of  the 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  87 

individual  interest  to  unite  itself  with  that  uni- 
versal enterprise  of  which  it  is  the  microcosmic 


The  simplest  moral  economy  is  that  in  which 
twDor  more  interests  are  reciprocally  adjusted 
without  being  subordinated.  The  principle  of 
orgJHlfeahon'lv'hich  dermes  such  an  economy  is 
prudence.  Prudence  becomes  necessary  at  the 
moment  when  interests  come  into  such  contact 
with  one  another  as  provokes  retaliation.  Thus, 
for  example,  interests  react  on  one  another 
through  being  embodied  in  the  same  physical 
organism.  Each  bodily  activity  depends  on  the 
well-being  of  co-ordinate  functions,  and  if  its 
exercise  be  so  immoderate  as  to  injure  these,  it 
undermines  itself.  Moderation  gains  for  special 
interests  the  support  of  a  general  bodily  health. 

But  bodily  health  is  not  the  only  medium  of 
interdependence  among  the  interests  of  a  single 
individual.  His  interests  must  draw  not  only  upon 
a  common  source  of  vitality,  but  also  upon  a 
common  stock  of  material  resources.  The  limi- 
tation of  interests  that  follows  from  this  fact  is 
frugality  or  thrift,  the  practical  working  of  the 
principle  that  presgnt  waste  is  future  lack,  and 
that,  therefore,  to  save  now  is  to  spend  hereafter. 
Thrift  involves  also  a  special  emphasis  on  liveli- 


88  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

hood,  since  this  is  a  source  of  supply  for  all  par- 
ticular interests. 

The  social^  relation  makes_jnterests  externally 
interdependent  in  a  great  variety^of  Ways.  In- 
teres!s"n"must  inhabit  one  space,  exploit  one  physi- 
cal environment,  and  employ  ^  common  mode  of 
communication.  If  any  interest  so  acts  as  unduly 
to  divert  one  of  these  mediums  to  its  own  uses,  it 
must  suffer  retaliation  from  the  other  interests  that 
likewise  depend  on  that  medium.  It  is  prudent  to 
give  even  one's  rival  half  the  road,  and  to  divide 
the  spoils  with  him.  There  is  a  politic  form  of 
honesty;  and  veracity  may  be  conceived  only  as  a 
kind  of  caution.  Thus  Menander  says:  "It  is 
always  best  to  speak  the  truth  in  all  circum- 
stances. This  is  a  precept  which  contributes 
most  to  safety  of  life."  4  Tact  is  only  a  more 
refined  method  of  avoiding  tbfi  antagonism  of 
interests  that  operate  within  the  same  field  of 
social  intercourse. 

The  economy  of  prudence  has  its  own  char- 
acteristic value.  IndeecTfif  this  were  not  so 
there  would  be  no  possibility  of  that  form  of  base- 
ness known  as  being  merely  prudent.  There  is 
a  prudential  equilibrium;  a  condition  of  smooth 
and  harmonious  adjustment,  within  the  personal 
life  or  the  community.  I  propose  that  this  equi- 
librium be  termed  health.  In  that  admirable 
idealization  of  renaissance  morality,  Castigli- 


THE   ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  89 

one's  Book  oj  the  Courtier,  the  author  refers 
to  the  immediate  reward  of  self-control  that 
comes  both  from  inner  harmony  and  the  approba- 
tion of  one's  fellowsi  Tolnstil  goodness  into  the 
mind,  ""to  teach  continence,  fortitude,  justice, 
temperance,"  Castiglione  would  give  his  prince 
"a  taste  of  how  much  sweetness  is  hidden  by  the 
little  bitterness  that  at  first  sight  appears  to  him 
who  withstands  vice;  which  is  always  hurtful 
and  displeasing,  and  accompanied  by  infamy  and 
blame,  just  as  virtue  is  profitable,  blithe,  and  full 
of  praise."  5 

Socially,  the  healthful  equilibrium  corresponds^ 
to  that  " peace"  which  Hobbes  praised  above  all 
things  ;^~  and  which  is  all  that  is  asked  for  by 
those  who  wish  to  be  let  alone  in  order  that  they 
may  pursue  their  own  affairs.  Although  such 
peace  may  be  ignominious,  it  need  not  be  so; 
and  a  sense  of  security  and  reciprocal  adjustment 
must  remain  among  the  surviving  values,  what- 
ever higher  achievements  be  added  to  it.  But  the 
inherent  value  of  health  is  most  clearly  defined 
by  a  nice  equilibration  of  activities  within  the 
medium  of  the  individual  organism.  I  borrow 
the  following  description  of  health  in  this  sense 
from  a  recent  book  by  H.  G.  Wells: 

The  balance  a%  between  asceticism  and  sensuality 
comes  in,  it  seems  to  me,  if  we  remember  that  to 
drink  well  one  must  not  have  drunken  for  some  time, 


90  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

that  to  see  well  one's  eye  must  be  clear,  that  to  make 
love  well  one  must  be  fit  and  gracious  and  sweet  and 
disciplined  from  top  to  toe,  that  the  finest  sense  of  all 
— the  joyous  sense  of  bodily  well-being — comes  only 
with  exercises  and  restraints  and  fine  living.7 

The  tejnperance  praised  by  the  Greeks  is  of 
like  quality,  with  a  further  reference  to  the  rea- 
sonableness which  it  fosters.  A  prudence  which 
is  mastered,  which  has  become  a  spontaneity,  de- 
livers reason  from  bondage,  and  makes  the  whole 
of  life  easily  conformable  to  it.  Thus  Castiglione, 
who  is  so  often  reminiscent  of  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle, draws  a  contrast  between  continence,  as  the 
"conquest"  of  prudence,  and  temperance  as  its 
"beneficent  rule." 

Thus  this  virtue  does  not  compel  the  mind,  but 
infusing  it  by  very  gentle  means  with  a  vehement 
belief  that  inclines  it  to  righteousness,  renders  it  calm 
and  full  of  rest,  hi  all  things  equal  and  well  measured, 
and  disposed  on  every  side  by  a  certain  self-accord 
which  adorns  it  with  a  tranquillity  so  serene  that  it 
is  never  ruffled,  and  becomes  in  all  things  very  obedi- 
ent to  reason  and  ready  to  turn  its  every  act  thereto 
and  to  follow  wherever  reason  may  wish  to  lead  it, 
without  the  least  unwillingnes^i 

Such  is  that  prudence  which,  though  rich  in  its 
own  right,  is  nevertheless  subordinate  to  greater 
good. 

"""It  is  proper  to  regard  prud£nce__asL_inferior  in 

\    principle^tppurpose  and^jgpj^Bdll,  or  even  as 

ignoble  when  *CDnU¥meain  its  narrowness.    It 

V.%; 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  91 

denotes  an  organization  of  life  in  which  as  yet 
no  interest  has  risen  above  the  rest;  it  bespeaks 
the  common  populace  of  interests,  disciplined, 
but  not  moved  to  any  eminent  achievement. 
The  fact  that  the  validity  of  the  principle  of  pru- 
dence is  so  readily  granted  is  significant  of  this. 
Prudence  requires  no  interest  to  be  other  than 
itself,  but  meets  it  on  its  own  ground.  There 
is  no  elevation  of  motive. 

But  prudence  is  tEe  first  and^mpst  instructive 
lesson  in  morality.  TT  has  a  peculiar  impressive- 
ness,  not  only  because  it  is  so  promptly  and  un- 
mistakably verified,  but  because  it  is  so  close  to 
life.  Its  meaning  is  unlikely  to  be  obscured 
through  being  abstracted  from  the  real  interests 
whose  saving  is  the  proof  of  its  virtue.  Further- 
more, although  prudence  is  not  the  highest  prin- 
ciple in  life,  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  is 
therefore  unnecessary  in  the  highest  spheres  of 
life.  There  is  a  problem  of  prudence  that  under- 
lies every  practical  problem  whatsoever.  If  in- 
terests are  to  be  organized  they  must  be  not  only 
subordinated  but  also  co-ordinated,  that  is,  ad- 
justed within  every  medium  in  which  they  meet. 
Without  moderation,  caution,  self-control,  thrift, 
and  tact  there  is  no  serving  man  or  God.  As  life 
increases  in  complexity  it  is  easy  to  forget  these 
basal  precepts.  Nature  has  provided  a  model, 
both  simple  and  fundamental,  in  physical  health. 


92  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

"The  body,"  says  Burke,  "is  wiser  in  its  own 
plain  way,  and  attends  its  own  business  more 
directly  than  the  mind  with  all  its  boasted  sub- 
tilty."g 

The  prudential  organization  of  life  furnishes 
the  first  type  of  formalism.  Prudence  requires 
that  the  interest  shall  be  limited  in  order  that  it 
may  not  antagonize  other  interests  and  thus  in- 
directly defeat  itself.  ^Discipline  is  justified,  in 
other  words,  by  its  fruits.  But  discipline  in- 
volves an  initial  moment  of  negation,  in  which 
the  movement  of  the  interest  is  resisted.  It  must 
be  checked,  and  its  headway  overcome,  if  it  is  to 
be  redirected.  The  exaggeration  of  this  mo- 
ment of  negation,  or  a  steady  persistence  in  it, 
is  asceticism.  Its  fault  lies  in  its  emptiness,  in 
its  destruction  or  perversion  of  that  which  it 
was  designed  only  to  protect  against  itself. 

Asceticism  appears  most  frequently  as  a  sub- 
ordinate metive  in  some  general  condemnation 
of  the  world  on  religious  grounds,  and  must  re- 
ceive further  consideration  in  that  connection. 
Its  proper  meaning  as  a  purely  prudential  formal- 
ism is  best  exhibited  in  the  Greek  Cynics.  These 
philosophers  were  moved  to  mortify  the  flesh, 
and  to  deny  their  social  interests,  by  extreme 
caution.  They  discovered  that  the  safest  method 
of  adjustment  was  simplification.  If  one  per- 
mits one's  self  no  desires,  one  need  not  suffer 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  93 

from  their  conflict,  nor  need  one  treat  with  the 
desires  of  others.  Now  this  would  be  a  very 
perfect  solution  of  the  problem  of  adjustment,  if 
only  there  were  something  left  to  adjust.  If  a 
Cynic  can  attain  to  a  state  of  renunciation  in 
which  he  wants  nothingy  he  will  be  sure  of  hav- 
ing what  he  wants;  only,  unfortunately,  it  will 
be  nothing.  Epictetus  has  thus  represented  the 
Cynic's  boast: 

Look  at  me,  who  am  without  a  city,  without  a 
house,  without  possessions,  without  a  slave;  I  sleep 
on  the  ground;  I  have  no  wife,  no  children,  no  prae- 
torium,  but  only  the  earth  and  heavens,  and  one 
poor  cloak.  And  what  do  I  want?  am  I  not  with- 
out sorrow  ?  Am  I  not  without  fear  ?  Am  I  not  free  ? 

Now  it  is  clear  that  the  sum  of  the  Cynics'  at- 
tainments is  not  large.  It  consists,  indeed,  al- 
most wholly  in  a  certain  hardened  complacency, 
and  a  freedom  to  make  faces  at  the  world.  To 
the  onlooker,  whose  comment  Epictetus  also 
records,  their  aspect  is  mean: 

No:  but  their  characteristic  is  the  little  wallet,  and 
staff,  and  great  jaws;  the  devouring  of  all  that  you 
give  them,  or  storing  it  up,  or  the  abusing  unseason- 
ably all  whom  they  meet,  or  displaying  their  shoulder 
as  a  fine  thing.10 

In  other  words,  since  the  Cynic  continues  to  live 
after  having  rejected  the  propertnstruments  and 
forms  of  life,  he  must  make  a  living  out  of  the 
charitable  curiosity  excited  by  his  very  unfitness. 


94  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

.  And  asceticism  of  this  prudential  type  tends  al- 
ways to  be  both  empty  and  monstrous;  empty 
because  it  denies  life,  and  monstrous  because 
life  is  not  really  denied,  but  only  perverted  and 
awkwardly  obstructed. 

There  is  a  materialistic  evil  corresponding  to 

\  the  prudential  organization  of  life  which  is  known 

as  meanness,  vulgarity,  or  sordidness.    It  denotes 

a  failure  to  recognize  anything  better  than  the 

fulfilment  of  the  simple  interests  in  their  feeveralty.1 

^•'  _  ""^BEHC«k 

Although  guarded  and  adjusteoltEese  still  de- 
termine  the  general  tone  of  life.    The  control- 
ling motive,  the  standard  of  attainment,  is  never 
anything  higher  than  the  elementary  desire  with 
,    its    attendant  satisfaction.    In  its  ^negative   as- 
v'.'^pect  this  is  termed  aimlessness,  and  is  identical 
"**  *  with  the  Christian  vice  of  idleness,  so  graphically 
described  by  Jeremy  Taylor: 

Idleness  is  called  the  sin  of  Sodom  and  her  daugh- 
ters, and  indeed  is  the  burial  of  a  living  man,  an  idle 
person  being  so  useless  to  any  purposes  of  God  and 
man,  that  he  is  like  one  that  is  dead,  unconcerned 
in  the  changes  and  necessities  of  the  world;  and  he 
only  lives  to  spend  his  time,  and  eat  the  fruits  of  the 
earth:  like  a  vermin  or  a  wolf,  when  their  time  comes 
they  die  and  perish,  and  in  the  meantime  do  no  good; 
they  neither  plough  nor  carry  burdens;  all  they  do 
is  either  unprofitable  or  mischievous.11 

Thus  aimlessness  denotes  a  failure  to  attain  any- 
thing of  worth;    a  lack  of  consecutiveness  and 


THE   ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  95 

unity.    The  correction  of  this  fault  lies  in  a  new 
principle  of  organization. 


This  new  principle  of  organization  consists 
in  the  incorporation  of  interests,  that  is,  their  sub- 
ordination to  a  purpose  that  embraces  them,  uni- 
fies them,  and  carries  the  whole  to  a  successful 
issue.  The  incorporation  of  interests  is  pecul- 
iarly  an  intellectual  process.  It  is  this  to  which 
Socrates  refers  when  Se  says  that  knowledge  is 
virtue.  Pur^s^j^quireSjan  the  ;  first  place,  that 
one  should  1feipe~and  foresee  the  end^  and  in  the 
second  place,  that  one  should  be  sagacious  and 
watchful  in  the  service  of  it.  Purpose  is  the 
virtue  ....61  the  understanding,  of  a  mind  which  is 
adventurous  enough  to  project  an  enterprise, 
but  has  enough  of  home-keeping  wit  to  judge 
nicely  of  cause  and  effect  or  of  part  and  whole. 

There  are  many  virtues  which  contribute  to 
purpose,  and  of  these  none  is  more  indispensable 
than  patience,  or  the  capacity  to  labor  without 
hire  for  a  prize  deferred.  "Better  is  the  end  of 
a  thing,"  says  the  Preacher,  "than  the  beginning 
thereof:  and  the  patient  in  spirit  is  better  than 
the  proud  in  spirit."  Steadiness  of  purpose 
under  adverse  or  confusing"  circumstances  is 
called  persistence,  courage,  loyalty,  or  zeal,  with 


96  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

differences  of  meaning  that  reflect  the  nature 
either  of  the  purpose  or  the  circumstances. 

But  since  purpose  is  so  much  an  intellectual 
virtue,  special  importance  attaches  in  this  econ- 
omjL-to  truthfulness.  If  one's  purpose  be  some 
form  of  personal  achievement,  one  must  deal 
honestly  with  one's  self.  And  this  is  not  easily 
done.  Epictetus  told  his  pupils  that  men  were 
loath  to  admit  any  fault  that  they  held  to  be 
really  blameworthy: 

Some  things  men  readily  confess,  and  other  things 
they  do  not.  No  one  then  will  confess  that  he  is  a 
fool  or  without  understanding;  but  quite  the  contrary 
you  will  hear  all  men  saying,  I  wish  that  I  had  fortune 
equal  to  my  understanding.  But  men  readily  confess 
that  they  are  timid,  and  they  say:  I  am  rather  timid,  I 
confess;  but  as  to  other  respects  you  will  not  find  me 
to  be  foolish.  A  man  will  not  readily  confess  that  he 
is  intemperate;  and  that  he  is  unjust,  he  will  not  con- 
fess at  all.  He  will  by  no  means  confess  that  he  is 
envious  or  a  busybody.  Most  men  will  confess  that 
they  are  compassionate.11 

Now  if  one  is  to  attain  anything  difficult,  he  can- 
not afford  to  indulge  in  vanity  or  self-satisfaction; 
for  action  can  be  kept  true  to  its  end  only  when 
the  least  obliquity  is  marked  and  corrected. 
Hence  the  strong  man  does  not  attribute  his 
failure  to  fortune  or  to  his  amiable  virtues,  but 
to  Jus  folly;  for  he  knows  that  to  be  the  crucial 
fault  which  it  lies  witkinrhis  power  to  remedy. 
On  the  other  hand,/if  the  purpose  be  one 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  97 

which  involves  the  co-operation  of  several  per- 
sons, it  is  necessary  that  these  should  deal  openly 
and  candidly  with  one  another.  Truthfulness 
is  a  condition  of  any  coUective_  undertaking.  It 
is  interesting  to  observe  the  growing  recognition 
of  the  need  of  publicity  wherever  democratic 
institutions  prevail,  ^ecrecy  is  a  sort  of  treason. 
If  men  are  to  work  together 'lor  their  common 
welfare  they  must  be  truly  in  touch  with  one  an- 
other; otherwise  there  is  a  spy  at  their  councils, 
an  incalculable  force  that  may  counterwork  their 

plans-J 

Achievement,  the  value  which  the  virtue  of 
purpose  conditions,  needs  no  moralist's  justifica- 
tion. The  world  never  tires  of  praising  it,  for 
it  is  the  world's  business.  By  achievement  I 
mean  the  fulfilment  by  subordinated  and  cumu- 
lative effort  of  an  interest  deliberately  adopted 
for  its  greatness  of  value.  Life  is  now  controlled 
not  by  the  accident  of  desire,  but  by  the  due 
preference  of  the  better.  It  has  begun  to  be 
rational  not  only  in  its  method,  but  also  in  its 
aim.  It  is  now  more  fruitful,  because  more 
broadly  conceived,  being  engaged  in  enterprises 
which  continue,  and  which  draw  from  many 
sources.  Hence  a  man  can  better  endure  the 
spectacle  of  his  own  life,  f6r~iFseenis  not  to  be 
wholly  mean  or  ineffectual.  In  that  his  conduct 
is  unified,  consistent,  and  directed  to  some  worthy 


98  THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

end,  he  repossessed  of  that  quality  of  character 
which_is  respected  in  him  both  by  himself  and 
by  his  fellows. 

v  It  is  unfortunate  that  there  is  no  better  term 
than  sentimentalism  with  which  to  indicate  that 
variety  of  formalism  which  is  characteristic  of 
the  purposive  economy.  The  fallacy  consists 
essentially  in  the  abstraction  of  the  purpose  from 
its  constituent  interests.  The  true  value  of  a 
purpose  lies  in  its  function  of  organization;  and 
is,  therefore,  inseparable  from  the  interests  to 
which  it  gives  unfiy^  and  fulfilment.  But  its 
form,  or  even  its  mere  name,  may,  through  asso- 
ciation, come  to  acquire  a  fictitious  value.  When 
this  fictitious  value  gives  rise  in  contemplation  or 
discourse  to  a  certain  emotional  satisfaction,  we 
employ  the  term  "sentimentalism"  in  the  conven- 
tional sense.  This  is  the  sentimentalism  of  those 

"  Who  sigh  for  wretchedness,  yet  shun  the  wretched, 
Nursing  in  some  delicious  solitude 
Their  slothful  loves  and  dainty  sympathies." 

I  wish,  however,  to  emphasize  a  more  insidious 
variety  of  this  error,  in  which  it  may  be  more 
profoundly  and  fatally  confusing.1  i  I  refer,  in  the 
first  place,  to  what  mayjbejdescribed  as  deferred 
living.  There  is  a  popular  illusion  to  the  effect 
that  a  life  purpose  is  to  be  fruitful  only  at  the 
end;  that  it  is  something  to  be  prepared  for  in 
youth,  worked  for  in  maturity,  and  attained — 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE  99 

well,  it   is  difficult  to  say  when.    This  is  the 
fallacy  of  heaven  transferred  to  earth.     "Man 
never   is,   but   always   to   be   blest."       Life   is 
conceived  as  a  sentence  at  hard  labor,  the  only 
sure  compensation  being  the  ultimate  deliver- 
ance.   Now  there  is  but  one  justification  of  a 
life  purpose,  and  that  is  its  conserving  of  the 
whole  "of  life;    it  must  save  "each  day  and  each 
houfT'There  is  no  more  virtue  in  the  future 
than  in  the  present.     "The  greatest  disaster," 
says  a  Greek  proverb,  "is  for  a  man  to  be  opened 
and  found  empty";  and  this  does  not  refer  to  an 
autopsy.    It  is  at  least  one  function  of  a  life- 
purpose  to  make  life  distributively  and  continu- 
ously good.    That  one's  life  shall  be  pointed 
with  a  purpose  does  not  mean  that  it  shall  be  re- 
duced to  a  point.    The  very  virtue  of  organiza- 
tion  lies  in  its  making  room  for  The  free  play^bf  im- 
mediate and  particular  interests,  in  its  surrounding 
themliFa  distance  with  invisible  safeguards^ 
%\ A  second    important  case  of    sentimentalism ( 
is  nationalism^- ^Fhe  value  of  the  state  lies  in  its  ' 
protection  and  development  of  the  concrete  life 
of  the  community.    The  true  object  of  patriotism 
is  social  welfare.     But  for  the  state  as  a  provident  j 
economy,  there  may  be  substituted  as  an  object/ 
of  loyalty  what  is  onlyanjilea-er  a  name;   and! 
when  this  is  done  men  are  easily  persuaded  to 
play   into  the  hands  of   unscrupulous   leaders. 


TOO          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

To  the  abominable  tyrannies  which  have  thus 
been  made  possible  I  need  not  refer.  In  Hegel's 
philosophy  of  history,13  as  well  as  in  many  mod- 
ern political  theories,  this  error  has  been  deliber- 
ately affirmed.  But  for  illustration  I  prefer  to 
turn  to  the  case  of  Plato.  The  Republic  was 
conceived,  it  is  true,  without  bias  of  party  or 
race,  but  there  is  none  the  less  a  strain  of  arbi- 
trariness and  illibe/ality  in  it.  This  is  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  state  is  conceived  by  itself,  with 
a  quality  and  perfection  of  its  own  that  displaces  ] 
the  interests  of  its  citizens.14  A  state  which  is 
defined  otherwise  than  as  a  provision  for  the  very 
diversity  of  life,  an  organization  responsive  to 
pressure  from  every  constituent  desire,  fails  from 
over-simplification.  This  I  take  to  be  the  mean- 
ing  of  Aristotle's  comment  on  the  Republic: 

The  error  of  Socrates  must  be  attributed  to  thejalse 
nption__pf  unity  from  which  he  starts.  Unity  there 
should  be,  'both  of  the  family  and  of  the  state,  but 
in  some  respects  only.  For  there  is  a  point  at  which 
^may  attain  such  a  degree  of  unity  as  to  be  no 
a  state,  or  at  which,  without  actually  ceasing 


to  exist,  it  will  become  an  inferior  state,,  like  harmony 
passing  into  unison  L  or  rhythm  which  has  been  re- 
duced to  single  foot.  The  state  is  a  plurality,  which 
should  be  united  and  made  into  a  community  by 
education.15 

There  is  a  chapter  in  the  Discourses  of  Epic- 
tetus,  entitled:  "To  or  against  those  who  ob- 
stinately Persist  in  what  they  have  determined." 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         101 

There  could,  I  think,  be  no  better  formulation  of 
purpose  grown  hard  and  unworthily  self-sufficient. 
This  form  of  materialism  I  have  termed  egoism 
and  bigotry,  since  the  purpose  may  be  either  per- 
sonal or  social  in  scope.  But  in  either  case  the 
diagnosis  of  Epictetus  goes  to  the  root  of  the  evil. 
He  thus  describes  his  experience  with  one  of  his 
companions,  "who  for  no  reason  resolved  to  starve 
himself  to  death": 

I  heard  of  it  when  it  was  the  third  day  of  his  ab- 
stinence from  food,  and  I  went  to  inquire  what  had 
happened. 

"I  have  resolved,"  he  said. 

"But  still  tell  me  what  it  was  which  induced  you 
to  resolve;  for  if  you  have  resolved  rightly,  we  shall 
sit  with  you  and  assist  you  to  depart;  but  if  you  have 
made  an  unreasonable  resolution,  change  your  mind." 

"We  ought  to  keep  our  determinations." 

"What  are  you  doing,  man?  We  ought  to  keep 
not  to  all  our  determinations,  but  to  those  which  are 
right;  for  if  you  are  now  persuaded  that  it  is  right, 
do  not  change  your  mind,  if  you  think  fit,  but  per- 
sist and  say,  we  ought  to  abide  by  our  determinations. 
Will  you  not  make  the  beginning  and  lay  the  founda- 
tion in  an  inquiry  whether  the  determination  is  sound 
or  not  sound,  and  so  then  build  on  it  firmness  and 
security?"  .  .  . 

Now  this  man  was  with  difficulty  persuaded  to 
change  his  mind.  But  it  is  impossible  to  convince 
some  persons  at  present;  so  that  I  seem  now  to  know, 
what  I  did  not  know  before,  the  meaning  of  the  com- 
mon saying,  That  you  can  neither  persuade  nor 
break  a  fool.  May  it  never  be  my  lot  to  have  a  wise 
fool  for  my  friend:  nothing  is  more  un tractable.  "I 


102          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

am  determined,"  the  man  says.  Madmen  are  also; 
but  the  more  firmly  they  form  a  judgment  on  things 
which  do  not  exist,  the  more  ellebore  they  require.16 

The  wise  fool  is,  as  Epictetus  says,  more  in- 
tractable than  the  aimless  and  unwitting  fool; 
because  there  is  substance  to  his  folly.  There  is 
at  least  some  truth  on  his  side.  But  his  folly  is 
folly  none  the  less.  He  hardens  himself  against 
that  which  would  save  him;  while  boasting  him- 
self a  lover  of  light,  he  shuts  his  eyes  lest  any  ray 
of  it  penetrate  to  him.  Thus  the  egoist,  through 
the  atrophy  of  his  sympathies  and  his  preoccupa- 
tion with  a  narrow  ambitioa^gratuitously^  impover- 
ishes his  life;  and  it  is  difficult  to- convince  him 
of  his  loss,  because  he  indubitably  has  some  gain. 

Bigotry  consists  essentially  in  the  failure  to 
employ  the  method  of  discussion,  in  the  failure  to 
recognize  in  every  rational  being  a  possible  source 
of  that  truth  which  all  need.  It  is  a  stupid  for- 
feiture or  waste  of  the  resources  of  intelligence 
possessed  by  one's  fellows.  The  King  Creon 
of  Sophocles's  Antigone  is  a  masterly  repre- 
sentation of  the  futility  of  this  pride  of  opinion. 
Creon  angrily  resents  every  impeachment  of  his 
wisdom,  insisting  on  instant  and  unquestioning 
obedience.  But  his  son  Haemon  thus  attempts 
to  save  him  from  himself: 

Father,  the  gods  plant  wisdom  in  mankind,  which 
is  of  all  possessions  highest.  In  what  respects  you 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         103 

have  not  spoken  rightly  I  cannot  say,  and  may  I 
never  learn ;  and  still  it  may  be  possible  for  some  one 
else  to  be  right  too.  ...  Do  not  then  carry  in  your 
heart  one  fixed  belief  that  what  you  say  and  nothing 
else  is  right.  For  he  who  thinks  that  he  alone  is  wise, 
or  that  he  has  a  tongue  and  mind  no  other  has,  will 
when  laid  open  be  found  empty.17 

It  was  once  a  practice  even  among  learned  men 
to  set  personal  pride  above  the  truth.  The  chan- 
cellor of  the  University  of  Paris  complains  of  this 
practice  in  the  Middle  Ages: 

What  are  these  combats  of  scholars,  if  not  true 
cock-fights,  which  cover  us  with  ridicule  in  the  eyes 
of  laymen?  A  cock  draws  himself  up  against  an- 
other and  bristles  his  feathers.  ...  It  is  the  same 
to-day  with  our  professors.  Cocks  fight  with  blows 
from  their  beaks  and  claws;  "Self-love,"  as  some 
one  has  said,  "is  armed  with  a  dangerous  spur."18 

Egoism  and  bigotry,  then,  consist  essentially^*^ 
in  the^xa^geTaTioiramHmmobility  of  an  adopted 
purpose.  As  Ts~"tne  case  with  every  variety  of 
materialism,  their  fault  lies  in  their  blindness, 
in  their  fatuous  rejection  of  the  good  that  is 
offered  to  them.  But  this  is  not  all.  For  in  de- 
nying the  good  which  is  offered  to  him,  the  egoist 
or  bigot  also  virtually  denies  the  reason  which 
offers  it.  It  is  this  that  constitutes  the  affront 
which  is  called  injustice. 

The  full  jn fta.n ing  of  injustice  has  been  recog-  / 
nized  only  gradually,  and  it  is  even  now  by  no 
means  free  from  confusion.    But  I  think  that  it 


104          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

will  be  agreed  that  the  sting  of  it  is  a  failing  in 
respect.  Violence  may  be  wholly  without  this 
taint;  and  the 'most  bitter  injustice  may  be  wholly 
without  violence.  To  be  unjust  is  to  be  conde- 
scending or  supercilious;  to  assume  superiority 
on  personal  grounds,  ignoring  the  equal  access  to 
truth  which  is  enjoyed  by  every  rational  being. 
The  nice  quality  of  injustice  is  most  clearly  to  be 
apprehended  where  it  is  accompanied  by  benevo- 
lent  intent.  It  is  one  of  the  princely  attributes 
described  in  the  Book  of  the  Courtier,  and  justi- 
fied in  a  manner  that  leaves  no  doubt  of  its  im- 
'plied  meaning: 

True  it  is  that  there  are  two  modes  of  ruling:  the 
one  imperious  and  violent,  like  that  of  masters  toward 
their  slaves,  and  in  this  way  the  soul  commands  the 
body;  the  other  more  mild  and  gentle,  like  that  of 
good  princes  by  means  of  laws  over  their  subjects, 
and  in  this  way  the  reason  commands  the  appetite; 
and  both  of  these  modes  are  useful,  for  the  body  is 
by  nature  created  apt  for  obedience  to  the  soul,  and 
so  is  appetite  for  obedience  to  reason.  Moreover,  there 
are  many  men  whose  actions  have  to  do  only  with 
the  use  of  the  body;  and  such  as  these  are  as  far 
from  virtuous  as  the  soul  from  the  body,  and  although 
they  are  rational  creatures,  they  have  only  such  share 
of  reason  as  to  recognize  it,  but  not  to  possess  or  profit 
by  it.  These,  therefore,  are  nkturally  slaves,  and  it 
is  better  and  more  profitable  for  them  to  obey  than  to 
command.19 

Now  the  essence  of  injustice  lies  in  this  Platonic 
manner  of  classifying  human  beings  in  terms  of 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         105 

limited  capacities;  in  assigning  to  some  the  de- 
graded  status  of  the  appetites,  and  to  others  a 
limited  Acuity  of  understanding,  while  arrogat- 
ing to  a  few  the  full  power  and  title  of  Reason. 
The  resentment  of  this  arrogance  is  no  more  than 
the  assertion  of  that  potentiality  of  reason  which 
distinguishes  the  animal  man;  it  is  his  inevitable 
coming  of  age,  his  determination  to  play  the 


Justice  is  the  mutual  respect  through  which 
rational  purgpse^n^lSp  ajrelaiioji  of  fraternal 
equality.  It  is  the  courteous  paying  of  honor 
where  honor  is  due.  In  modern  times  justice 
has  very  properly  been  identified  with  tolerance, 
which  is  the  acknowledgment  that  one  is  one's 
self  equally  liable  to  error  with  another,  and  that 
another  is  equally  liable  to  truth  with  one's  self. 
Justice  attaches  a  certain  finality  to  the  judgment  of 
every  individual  instrument  of  reason.  Under  the 
form  of  justice  veracity  realizes  its  highest  meaning. 
The  truthjsjiot  to  be  administered  with  paternal 
indulgence  or  caution  ;4tjsjojbe^yielded  as  a  right 
to  every  free  and  self-determining  mind. 

The  practice  and  the  spirit  of  justice  pervade 
every  highly  developed  social  grouping,  such  as 
marriage,  friendship,  or  fellow-citizenship  in  a 
democracy.  For  Aristotle  a  friendship  is  "one 


io6          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

soul  dwelling  in  two  bodies";  20  that  is,  the  same 
high  capacity  uniting  two  individuals  in  the 
acknowledgment  of  its  common  principles,  and 
in  the  contemplation  of  its  common  objects. 
Aristotle's  other  saying,  thaf~rrman  is  a  political 
animal,"  is  inspired  with  the  same  meaning.  To 
participate  in  the  life  of  a  state,  in  which  one's 
fellow-citizens  were^  one's  equals,  in  which  men 
with  equal  endowments  carried  on  one  united 
activity  while  acknowledging  one  another's  in- 
dependence, was  to  an  Athenian  the  very  fulness 
of  life.  Te  be  banished  from  it  was,  even  in 
the  eyes  of  the  law,  equivalent  to  death. 

In  a  chapter  of  his  Physics  and  Politics,  en- 
titled "The  Age  of  Discussion,"  Bagehot  has 
admirably  represented  the  importance  for  human 
progress  of  an  open  exchange  of  opinion  on  all 
matters  of  great -consequence: 

In  this  manner  all  the  great  movements  of  thought 
in  ancient  and  modern  times  have  been  nearly  con- 
nected in  time  with  government  by  discussion. 
Athens,  Rome,  the  Italian  republics  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  the  communes  and  states-general  of  feudal 
Europe,  have  all  had  a  special  and  peculiar  quicken- 
ing influence,  which  they  owed  to  their  freedom,  and 
which  states  without  that  freedom  have  never  com- 
municated. And  it  has  been  at  the  time  of  great 
epochs  of  thought — at  the  Peloponnesian  War,  at  the 
fall  of  the  Roman  Republic,  at  tHe  Reformation,  at 
the  French  Revolution — that  such  liberty  of  speaking 
and  thinking  have  produced  their  full  effect." 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         107 

Elsewhere  Bagehot  attributes  to  freedom  of  dis- 
cussion, not  only  the  deliverance  from  narrow 
and  conventional  habits,  but  that  general  elef- 
vation  of  tone  which  is  characteristic  of  such  an 
era  as  the  Elizabethan  age  in  England.  In  short, 
justice  or  toleration,  since  it  encourages  men  to 
push  on  to  the  limit  of  their  powers,  promotes 
not  only  originality  and  diversity,  but  a  love  of 
perfection. 

It  will  have  been  observed  that  justice  and 
freedom  are  complementary,  for  he  who  is  just 
liberates,  and  he  who  is  free  receives  justice. 
Together  they  constitute  the  basis  of  all  the  higher 
relationships  between  men,  of  a  progressive  society, 
and  of  the  whole  constructive  movement  which  we 
call  civilization. 

But  it  is  possible  to  construe  justice  and  free- 
dom only  negatively,  as  meaning  that  the  indi- 
vidual is  to  be  allowed  to  go  his  way  in  peace. 
Such  a  misconception  is  formalistic,  in  that  it  rests 
on  a  failure  to  recognize  the  providence  or  fruitful- 
ness  of  justice.  The  virtue  of  justice  lies  not  in  its 
disintegration  of  society,  but  in  its  enabling  the 
members  of  society  tp_  unite  upon  the  highest 
plane  of  endeavor. ..  Justice  is  a  method  where- 
with men  may  profit  collectively,  and  in  their 
organized  effort,  from  a  sum  of  enlightenment  to 
which  every  individual  contributes  his  best. 
Anarchism  rests  in  the  negative  protest  against 


io8          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

conformity;  forgetting  that  the  only  right  to 
liberty  is  founded  on  the  possession  of  a  reason- 
ableness  that  inclines  the  individual  to  the  uni- 
versal; and  forgetting  that  the,  only  virtue~ln 
liBerty  lies  in  the  opportunity  for  union  and  de- 
votion which  it  provides. 

There  is  a  more  restricted  form  of  anarchism 
in  scepticism  which  attaches  finality  to  differences 
of  opinion,  and  overlooks^the^i'actjhat  these  very 
differences  must  beTegarded  as  converging  ap- 

\  ^*"-*— — ^-*^^^**^  ^^^^  "^^*^^^**«^r^r^T*^**"™^^*^™* 

prnarfofK;  tn  the  common  truth.  For  men  can 
differ  only  in  the  presence  of  identical  objects 
which  virtually  annul  their  difference.  To  be 
free  to  think  as  one  pleases  cannot  but  mean  to 
think  as  truly  as  possible,  and  so  to  approach  as 
closely  as  possible  to  what  others  also  tend  to  think. 
But  a  larger  importance  attaches  to  that  mild 
variety  of  anarchism  which  is  commonly  called 
laissez-faire^  and  which  Matthew  Arnold  calls 
British  Atheism  or  Quietism.  The  reader  will 
recall  Arnold's  quotation  from  the  Times: 

It  is  of  no  use  for  us  to  attempt  to  force  upon  our 
neighbors  our  several  likings  and  dislikings.  We 
must  take  things  as  they  are.  Everybody  has  his 
own  little  vision  of  religious  or  civil  perfection.  Under 
the  evident  impossibility  of  satisfying  everybody,  we 
agree  to  take  our  stand  on  equal  laws  and  on  a  system 
as  open  and  liberal  as  is  possible.  The  result  is  that 
everybody  has  more  liberty  of  action  and  of  speaking 
here  than  anywhere  else  in  the  Old  World 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         109 

And  from  Mr.  Roebuck: 

I  look  around  me  and  ask  what  is  the  state  of 
England?  Is  not  every  man  able  to  say  what  he 
likes?  I  ask  you  whether  the  world  over,  or  in  past 
history,  there  is  anything  like  it?  Nothing.  I  pray 
that  our  unrivalled  happiness  may  last." 

This  is  an  almost  perfect  representation  of  the 
sentimental  interesFm~]ustice.  In  the  course  of 
sucE  justice,  "ttone~oT"tis  should  see  salvation." 
It  leaves  wholly  out  of  account  the  fact  that 
when  men  are  left  free  to  talk  or  act  or  live  as 
they  will,  they  will  either  stagnate,  or  they  will 
strive  for  the  best  and  help  it  to  prevail.  If  the 
latter,  they  will  be  brought  back  to  the  state  as  the 
means  of  making  right  reason  effective,  and  of 
extending  to  all  not  simply  the  leave  to  be  what 
they  want  to  be,  of  following  what  Arnold  calls 
their  "natural  taste  of  the  bathos,"  but  the  oppor- 
tunity of  learning  better. 

Justice^  like  purpose  and  pnidenr.ftJ__j?^jTrm-    \ 
ciple   of   organization,   owing   its   virtue   to   the     I 
larger  fulfilment  of  interest  which  it  makes-  possi- 
ble.    Through   this   principle   the   individual   is 
granted  independence,  in  order  that  his  freedom 
may  remove  every  limit  from  his  service.    He  is 
delivered  from  the  bondage  of  violence  and  con- 
vention, but  he  is  delivered  into  the  charge  of 
hisown  reason,  which  must  give  bonds  not  only 
that  he  will  Zfcep  the  peace,  but  that  he  will  give 


no          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

himself  wholly  to  that  true  good  which  he  may 
now  discern. 

In  justice  the  human  secular  society  is_perfected. 
By  a  secular  society  I  mean  a  society  held  to  be 
self-sufficient,  as  it  is;  a  society  in  which  only 
those  interests  are  acknowledged  which  are 
actually  present,  or  have  actually  been  admitted 
to  a  place  of  power  or  prestige.  But  secularism 
or  worthiness  in  this  sense  suffers  from  the  gen- 
y  eral  error  of  materialism,  the  error  of  mistaking 
the  dejacio  good  for  the  whole  good.  It  is  only 
another  case  of  that  blindness  which  is  the  pen- 
alty of  all  self-sufficiency.  The  ancient  and  the 
*  modern  types  of  worldliness  present  an  interest- 
ing difference  which  will  serve  to  illustrate  their 
common  fault. 

Greek  literature  abounds  in  the  glorification  of 
the  life  already  achieved.  Thus  SolorPasks  no 
more  of  the  gods  than  to  be  fortunate  and  hon- 
ored: "  Grant  unto  me  wealth  from  the  blessed 
gods,  and  to  have  alway  fair  fame  in  the  eyes  of 
all  men.  Grant  that  I  may  thus  be  dear  to  my 
friends,  and  bitter  to  my  foes;  revered  in  the 
sight  of  the  one,  awful  in  the  sight  of  the 
other."23 

To  this  Pindar  adds  the  petition  that,  "being 
dead  I  may  set  upon  my  children  a  name  that 
shall  be  of  no  ill  report."  **  Even  the  ideal  of  the 
philosophers  is  only  a  refinement  of  this;  recog- 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         in 

nizing  the  superiority  of  such  activities  as  engage 
the  imagination  or  reason,  but  nevertheless  find- 
ing happiness  to  be  complete  in  terms  of  the  ful- 
filment of  the  dominant  desires  within  the  exist- 
ing political  community.  This  conception  was 
vaguely  distrusted,  it  is  true;  but  it  represents  the 
characteristic  enlightenment  of  the  most  enlight- 
ened centre  of  Greek  life.  Its  insufficiency  was  not 
clearly  demonstrated  until  the  advent  of  Chris- 
tianity; when  it  was  proved  to  lie  in  a  lack  of 
pityr^Now  pity  is  not,  as  is  sometimes  supposed, 
TTdnd  of  weakness;  it  is  ajdrid^  knowledge, 
wherewith  men  are  reminded  oFoSscure  and  neg- 
lected interests.  It  is  easy  to^im^erstand  why 
the  Christian  revolution  should  have  been  re- 
garded as  destructive  of  culture.  For  it  meant 
not  the  qualitative  refinement  of  the  good,  but 
the  quantitative  distribution  of  it.  But  it  none 
the  less  marks  an  epoch  in  moral  enlightenment; 
since  the  bringing  of  all  men  up  to  one  level  of 
opportunity  and  welfare  is  as  essential  a  part  of 
the  good  as  the  cultivation  of  distinction. 

'  The  modern  worldliness  consists  not  in  a  lack  of 
pity,  but  in  a  lack  of  Imaji/mition.  Philistinism, 
as  Matthew  Arnold  describes  it,  is  a  complacent 
satisfaction  with  the  kind  of  good  that  is  praised 
and  sought  for  in  any  given  time.  Such  com- 
placency is  found  in  its  most  extreme  form  among 

those  reformers  or  even  religious  leaders  who  are 


ii2          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

devoted  to  the  saving  of  men;  for  these  come 
to  overrate  their  wares  through  the  very  act  of 
pressing  them  upon  others.  Matthew  Arnold 
never  tires  of  illustrating  this  from  the  Liberal 
propaganda  of  his  day: 

And  I  say  that  the  English  reliance  on  our  religious 
organisations  and  on  their  ideas  of  human  perfection 
just  as  they  stand,  is  like  our  reliance  on  freedom, 
on  muscular  Christianity,  on  population,  on  coal, 
on  wealth  —  mere  belief  in  machinery,  and  unfruitful; 
and  that  it  is  wholesomely  counteracted  by  culture, 
bent  on  seeing  things  as  they  are,  and  on  drawing  the 
human  race  onwards  to  a  more  complete,  a  harmoni- 
ous perfection.25 

In  other  words,  both  humanism  and  humani- 
tarianism  may  be  lacking  in  humanity:  human- 
ism, on  account  of  its  insensibility  to  pain  and 
hunger  and  poverty  when  these  lie  outside  a  nar- 
row radius  of  bright  intensive  living;  humani- 
tarianism,  on  account  of  its  failure  to  honor  the 
highest  type  of  attainment  and  to  prefigure  a 
perfection  not  yet  realized. 


. 

There  is  but  flne  economy  of  interests  which  fur- 
nishesjhe  proper  sphere  of  moral  action,  namely, 
the  universal  economy  which  embraces  within  one 
system  all  interests  whatsoever,  present,  remote, 
and  pote&tiak'  The  validity  of  this  economy 
lies  in  the  fact  that  the  goodness  of  action  cannot 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         113 

be  judged  without  reference  to  all  the  interests 
affected,  whether  directly  or  indirectly.  To  live 
well  is  to  live  for  all  life.  The  control  of  action 
by  thisjnotive  is  the  virtue  of  goocT-wilt  It 
should  be  added  that  the  good  will  must  be  not 
only  compassionate,  but  just;  offering  to  help, 
without  failing  to  respect.  And  it  must  be  not 
only  devoted,  but  also  enlightened;  serving,  but 
not  without  self-criticism  and  insight. 

Such  a  programme  need  not  seem  bewildering 
or  quixotic.  If  my  action  does  not  offend  those 
most  nearly  concerned,  it  will  scarcely  offend 
those  removed  by  space,  time,  or  indirection. 
Charity  begun  at  home  is  spread  abroad  without 
my  further  endeavor.  Furthermore,  it  is  good- 
will rather  than  a  narrow  complacency  that  in- 
spires my  assuming  of  the  special  tasks  and  re- 
sponsibilities defined  by  proximity,  descent,  and 
special  aptitude.  Life  as  a  whole  is  built  out  of 
individual  opportunities  and  vocations.  It  is 
required  only  that  while  I  live  effectively  and 
happily,  as  circumstance  or  choice  may  determine, 
I  should  conform  myself  to  those  principles  which 
harmonize  life  with  life,  and  bring  an  abundance 
on  the  whole  out  of  the  fruitfulness  of  individual 
effort. 

Good-will  is  the  moral  condition  of  religion, 
where  this^is  corrected  by  firtlffiteampnf  The 
religion  of  good-will  is  best  illustrated,  from  the 


ii4          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

European  tradition,  in  the  transition  from  pagan- 
ism to  Christianity.  I  have  said  that  the  Greeks 
were  not  without  distrust  of  that  natural  and 
worldly  happiness  which  they  most  praised. 
This^for  example,  is  the  testimony  of  Euripides: 

Long  ago 

I  looked  upon  man's  days,  and  found  a  grey 
Shadow.     And  this  thing  more  I  surely  say, 
That  those  of  all  men  who  are  counted  wise, 
Strong  wits,  devisers  of  great  policies, 
Do  pay  the  bitterest  toll.     Since  life  began, 
Hath  there  in  God's  eye  stood  one  happy  man? 
Fair  days  roll  on,  and  bear  more  gifts  or  less 
Of  fortune,  but  to  no  man  happiness.28 

This  note  of  jjgssiniism  grows  more  marked 
among  the  philosophers,  and  is  at  length  taken 
up  into  the  Christian  renunciation  of  the  world. 
The  philosophers  attempted  to  devise  a  way  of 
happiness  which  the  superior  individual  might 
follow  through  detaching  himself  from  political 
society  and  cultivating  his  speculative  powers.17 
But  the  Christian  renunciation  involved  the 
abanckinmeHtr^  -every  -claim  to  individual  self- 
sufficiency,  even  "the -pride  of  reason.  It  ex- 
pressed a  sense  of  the  general  plight  of  humanity, 
and  looked  for  relief  only  through  a  power  with 
love  and  might  enough  to  save  all.  Hence  there 
is  this  fundamental  difference  between  pagan 
and  Christian  pessimism  f  the  pagan  confesses 
his  powerlessness  to  make  himself  impregnable 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         115 

to  fortune,  while  the  Christian  convicts  himself  of 
sin,  confessing  his  worthlessness  when  measured 
by  the  task  of  universal  salvation.  The  one 
pities  and  absolves  himself;  the  other  condemns 
himself. 

Now  the  other-worldliness  of  Christianity  was 
without  doubt  a  grave  error,  which  it  found  itself 
compelled  to  correct;  but  it  was  none  the  less 
the  vehicle  through  which  European  civilization 
became*  possessed  of  the  most  important  secrets 
of  religious  happinessv'j  In  the  first  place,  all 
are  made  sharers,  through  sympathy,  in  the 
failure  of  the  present;  and,  thus  distributed,  the 
burden  is  lightened.  "It  is  an  act- within  the 
power  of  charity,"  says  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
"to  translate  a  passion  out  of  one  breast  into  an- 
other, and  to  divide  a  sorrow  almost  out  of  itself; 
for  an  affliction,  like  a  dimension,  may  be  so  di- 
vided as,  if  not  indivisible,  at  least  to  become 
insensible."  "Jw  In  the  second  place,  it  is  under- 
stood that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  happiness 
that  is  enjoyed  at  the  expense  of  others  and  by 
the  special  favor  of  fortuneT' There  is  no  prom- 
ise of  individual  salvation  save  in  the  salvation 
of^jalL^  A  private  and  protected  happiness  is 
bound  sooner  or  later  to  be  destroyed  by  an  in- 
crease of  sensibility,  by  an  enlightened  awareness 
of  the  evil  beyond.  And  to  experience  evil,  to 
realize  it,  and  yet  to  be  content,  lies  not  within 


n6          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

the  power  of  any  moral  being;  it  is  not  merely 
difficult,  it  is  self-contradictory.  To  any  one  who 
judges  himself  fairly,  with  a  wide  and  vivid 
image  of  life  as  it  is  in  all  its  ramifications  and 
obscurities,  the  evil  of  the  world  is  all  one.  It 
follows  that,  as  there  is  nqjDerfect  happiness  ex- 
cept in  the  annihilation  of  evil,  so  there  can  be 
no  peace  of  mind,  no  self-respect,  no  sense  of  living 
truly  and  for  the  best,  unless  one's  action  can  be 
conceived  as  wholly  saving  and  up-building,  as 
contributing  in  its  place  and  in  its  way  to  the  gen- 
eral forward  movement.  This,  I  think,  isThe 
deeper  explanation  of  the  buoyancy  of  devoted 
people,  of  that  buoyancy  which  wa§  a  source  of 
such  great  wonder  to  the  disillusioned  wise  men 
of  ancient  times.  And  this,  I  think,  is  the  mean- 
ing of  the  Christian  teaching  that  it  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive;  and  that  the  love 
of  one's  God  is  to  grow  out  of  the  love  of  one's 
neighbor. 

I  have  endeavored  to  show  that  the  highest 
good  is  the  greatest  good;  that  it  may  not  only  be 
inferrecTtfom  the  present  good,  but  that  it  actually 
consists  of  the  present  good,  with  more  like  it, 
^   and  witrTtEe  present  evil  eliminated.    By  mysti- 
/       cism  I  mean  that  species  of  forrnajism  in  which 
^  the  highest  good,  out  of  respect  for  its  exaltation, 
J^W.     is  divorced  from  thejpresent  good,  and  so  emptied 
of  content.    Professor  James  has  said  that  it  is 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         117 

characteristic  of  rationalists  and  sentimentalists, 
to  "extract  a  quality  from  the  muddy  particu- 
lars of  experience,  and  find  it  so  pure  when  ex- 
tracted that  they  contrast  it  with  each  and  all  its 
muddy  instances  as  an  opposite  and  higher 
nature."  29  There  is  a  peculiar  liability  to  such  / 
abstraction  in  religion,  for  religion  involves~~aT 
judgment  of  insufficiency  against  every  limited 
achievement.  A  longing  after  unqualified  good 
is  the  very  breath  of  enlightened  religion;  and 
in  order  that  that  ideal  may  be  kept  pure,  it  must 
not  be  identified  with  any  partial  good.  Indeed, 
the  office  of  religion  requires  it  to  condemn  as 
only  partial,  good  that  is  commonly  taken  to  be 
sufficient.  Now  there  is  only  one  way  of  defining 
a  good  that  shall  be  universal  without  being  merely 
formal,  and  that  is  by  defining  perfection  quanti- 
tatively rather  than  qualitatively;  substituting 
for  the  Platonic  Absolute  Good,  in  which  the 
present  good  is  refined  away  into  a  phrase  or 
symbol,  the  maximum  good,  in  which  the  present 
good  is  saved  and  multiplied.  He  who  believes 
that  he  conceives  goodness  otherwise  than  as  the 
good  which  he  already  possessesTdeceives  him- 
self; as  does  the  author  of  the  Religio  Medici, 
when  he  says: 

That  wherein  God  Himself  is  happy,  the  holy 
Angels  are  happy,  in  whose  defect  the  Devils  are  un- 
happy, that  dare  I  call  happiness;  whatsoever  con- 


n8          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

duceth  unto  this  may  with  an  easy  Metaphor  deserve 
that  name;  whatsoever  else  the  World  terms  Happi- 
ness, is  to  me  a  story  out  of  Pliny,  a  tale  of  Boccace 
or  Malizspini,  an  apparition,  or  neat  delusion,  wherein 
there  is  no  more  of  Happiness  than  the  name.  Bless 
me  in  this  life  with  but  peace  of  my  Conscience,  com- 
mand of  my  affections,  the  love  of  Thyself  and  my 
dearest  friends,  and  I  shall  be  happy  enough  to  pity 
Caesar.30 

Now  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Sir  Thomas  Browne  was 
in  fact  unable  to  attribute  to  God  and  the  angels 
any  other  happiness  than  these  same  blessings 
which  he  covets  for  himself,  saving  only  that 
they  shall  be  without  stint,  and  joined  with  others 
like  tKem.  ^ 

Formalism,  as  we  have  seen,  is  never  merely 
negative  in  inconsequences;  for  any  moral  un- 
truth, since  it  replace's  a  truth,  cannot  fail  to  per- 
vert life.  Thus  one  may  be  persuaded  with  the 
author  whom  I  have  just  quoted  to  count  the 
world,  "not  an  Inn,  but  an  Hospital;  and  a  place 
not  to  live,  but  to  dye  in."  31  I  do  not  suppose  that 
any  one  ever  succeeded  in  wholly  resisting  the 
hospitality  of  this  world,  and  one  suspects  that 
Thomas  Browne  partook  not  a  little  of  its  good 
cheer;  but  the  opinion  is  false  notwithstanding, 
and  if  false,  then  confusing  and  misleading. 
This  world  is  not  a  place  to  suffer  in,  nor  even  a 
place  to  be  mended  in,  but  the  only  opportunity 
of  achievement  and  service  that  can  be  certainly 


THE  ORDER  OF  VIRTUE         119 

counted  on.  The  good  is  in  the  making  here, 
if  it  is  in  the  making  anywhere.  To  neglect  life 
here  is  equivalent  to  forfeiting  it  altogether. 

Religious  formalism  may  induce  jiot. only  a 
default  of  presgnt  opportunity  and  responsibility, 
but  also  a  substitution  for  good  living  of  an  emo- 
tional improvisation  on  the  theme  of  absolute 
perfection,  like  that  in  the  Book  of  the  Courtier : 

If,  then,  the  beauties  which  with  these  dim  eyes  of 
ours  we  daily  see  in  corruptible  bodies,  .  .  .  seem  to 
us  so  fair  and  gracious  that  they  often  kindle  most 
ardent  fire  in  us,  ...  what  happy  wonder,  what 
blessed  awe,  shall  we  think  is  that  which  fills  the  souls 
that  attain  to  the  vision  of  divine  beauty!  What 
sweet  flame,  what  delightful  burning,  must  that  be 
thought  which  springs  from  the  fountain  of  supreme 
and  true  beauty! — which  is  the  source  of  every  other 
beauty,  which  never  waxes  nor  wanes:  ever  fair,  and 
of  its  own  self  most  simple  in  every  part  alike;  like 
only  to  itself,  and  partaking  of  none  other;  but  fair 
in  such  wise  that  all  other  fair  things  are  fair  because 
they  derive  their  beauty  from  it.  This  is  that  beauty 
identical  with  highest  good. 82 

Now  I  do  not  want  to  be  understood  as  condemn- 
ing this  mysticism  out  of  hand.    I  mean  only 
that  while  it  is  eloquent  and  purifying,  it  is,  never- 
theless, not  illuminating;    and  that  if  it  be  mis- 
taken for  illumination,  it  does  in  fact  hide  the 
light.    It  has  no  meaning  whatsoever  except  the? 
general  idea  of  the  superlative,  and  if  it  be  not' 
attached  to  some  definite  content  drawn  from 


\ 


120         THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

experience  of  acts  and  their  consequences,  it  does 
but  substitute  a  phrase  for  the  proper-objects  of 
action  ancTan  emotion  for  provident  conduct. 
~~There  is  a  further  moral_danger  in  mysticism, 
which  I  need  only  mention  here,  because  I  pro- 
pose to  discuss  it  more  fully  in  the  chapter  on  re- 
ligion. Since  mysticism  opposes  a  forraaLperfec- 
tion  to  the  concrete  good  of  experience,  it  tends  to 
obscure  the  distinction  between  good  and  evil. 
That  distinction  lies  within  experience,  and  if 
experience  as  a  whole  be  discredited,  the  dis- 
tinction is  discredited  with  it.  If  the  common, 
familiar  good  is  not  to  be  taken  as  valid,  then 
finality  no  longer  attaches  to  that  common,  familiar 
evil  which  the  moral  will  has  been  trained  to  con- 
demn and  resist.  If  the  good  lie  "  beyond  good 
and  evil,"  then  neither  is  the  good  good  nor  the 
evil  evil.  The  result  is  to  leave  the  moral  will 
without  justification,  supported  only  by  habit  and 
custom. 

The  virtue  of  piety  lies  in  its  completing,  not 
in  its  replacing,  secular  efficiency.  It  gives  to  a 
life  that  is  provident  and  fruitful  as  it  goes,  the 
stimulus  of  a  momentous  project,  and  reverence 
for  a  good  that  shall  embrace  unlimited  possi- 
bilities. 


THE  ORDER  OF 


In  reviewing  the  several  levels  of  life  which 
morality  defines,  we  may  observe  two  types  of 
universal  value.  The  lower  values  m  relation 
to  the  higher  are  indispensable!^  There  is  no 
health  without  satisfaction^no  achievement  with- 
out health*  no  rational  intercourse  without 
achievement,  and  no  true  religion  except  as  the 
perfecting  and  completing  of  a  rational  society. 
The  higher  values,  on  the  other  hand,  are  more  < 
universal  than  the  lower  in  that  they  surpass  J^ 
these  invalidity,  and  are  entitled  to  preference. 
Thus  the  lower  values  are  ennobled  by  the  higher, 
while  the  higher  are  given  body  and  meaning  by 
the  lower.  Satisfaction  derives  dignity  from  being 
controlled  by  the  motive  of  good-will,  while  the 
moral  kingdom  at  large  derives  its  wealth,  its 
pertinence  to  life,  and  its  incentive,  from  the  great 
manifold  of  particular  interests  which  it  conserves 
and  fosters. 

It  is  the  formal  rather  than  the  material  prin/ 
ciple  in  life  which  definesthe^  direction  of  moral  j 


in  life  which  defines^the^  direction  of 
effort.     By^rudence^purjpose,  fustice,  anoood- 
wflr  life  is  regenerated  and  urged,  against  the 
resistance  of  inertia,  towards  its  maximum  of  at- 
tainment.   Hence  these  are  the  virtues  which 
make  men  heroes,  and  which  are  symBplized  in  / 
manners  and  in  worship.     Manners  are  a  sym- 


122          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

bolic  representation  of  rational  intercourse;  thus 
courtesy  is  a  ceremony  of  respect,  chivalry  of 
service,  and  modesty  of  self-restraint  and  imperson- 
ality. Worship  is  similarly  a  symbolic  representa- 
tion of  good- will  and  hope.  Upon  the  cultivation 
of "  those  outward  and  sensible  motions  which  may 
express  or  promote  an  invisible  devotion"  human 
life  is  dependent  not  only  for  its  graciousness, 
but  for  its  discipline  and  growth. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS 


THE   phrase   "philosophy   of   history"    is   at 
present  somewhat  in  disrepute.    It  enjoys  much         /  &  */ 
the  same  unpopularity  among  historians  as  does  the        /^/  *) 
term  "  metaphysics  "  among  scientists,  and  prob- 
ably for  the  same  reason.    It  is  assumed  that  such 
a  discipline  must  either  violate  or  exceed  the  facts 
in  the   interests   of  some  a   priori   conception. 
Doubtless  some  philosophies  of  history  have  been 
guilty  of  this  charge;  but  they  do  not,  I  am  sure, 
exhaust   the   possibilities   in   the   case.    In   the 
present  chapter  I  shall  present  an  outline  of  what 
might  fairly  be  regarded  as  a  philosophy  of  his-  S 
tory,  but  which  neveTfrleless  dues  no  more1  than 
attempt  a  precise  definition  of  principles  which 
evenlte~rristorian  is  forced  to  employ. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  define  the  task  of  history, 
except  in  the  broadest  terms.  The  form  which 
its  results  should  finally  assume  is  a  matter  of 
dispute  among  historians  themselves.  But  it  is 
at  least  possible  to  indicate  the  field  of  history  in 
terms  that  will  command  general  assent.  ,  In  the 
first  placeT^nlstory  deals  with  change,  with  the 
123 


124          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

temporal  sequence  of  events;  and  in  the  second 
2;place,  it  confines  itself  to  such  events  as  belong 
to  what  is  called  human  conduct.  Entirely  apart 
from  theories  of  method  or  technique,  it  seems 
clear  that  any  established  fact  falling  within  this 
description  belongs  properly  to  that  body  of 
knowledge  which  we  call  history. 

N/I  wish  especially  to  call  attention  to  the  fact 
that  history  deals  with  human  conduct.  It  deals, 
in  other  words,  with  actions  which  serve  inter- 
ests; with  needs,  desires,  and  purposes  as  these 
are  fulfilled  or  thwarted  in  the  course  of  time. 
Its  subject-matter,  therefore,  is  moral.  It  de- 
scribes" trie  clash  of  interests,  tne  failure  or  suc- 
cess of  ambition,  the  improvement  or  decay  of 
nations;  in  short,  all  things  good  and  evil  in  so 
far  as  they  have  been  achieved  and  recorded. 
And  the  broader  the  scope  of  the  historian's 
study  the  more  clearly  do  these  moral  principles 
emerge.  The  present-day  emphasis  on  the  accu- 
rate verification  of  data  somewhat  obscures,  but 
does  not  negate  the  fact,  that  every  item  of  detail 
is  in  the  end  brought  under  some  judgment  of 
\  good  or  evil,  of  gain  or  loss  in  human  welfare. 
All  history  is  virtually  a  history  of  civilization;  and 
civilization  is  a  moralconception  referring  to  the 
sum  ^TTiu"manjLchievement  in  so  far  as~thfe-is 
pronounced  good. 
Now  there""is"  a  branch  of  philosophy  called 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     125 

"ethics,"  to  which  is  committed  the  investigation  of 
moral  conceptions.  These  conceptions  are  as 
much  subject  to  exact  analysis  as  conceptions  of 
motion  or  organic  behavior.  And  such  an  an- 
alysis must  underlie  all  judgments  concerning 
the  condition  of  mankind  in  any  time  or  place,  if 
these  judgments  make  any  claim  to  truth.  The  >» 
application  of  ethical  analysis  to  the  recorded  life 
of  man  is  a  philosophy  of  history.1  SucrT^a 
dfeciplineTs  charged  wilh  the  crrtieism  of  the  past 
in  terms  of  critical  principles  which  have  been 
explicitly  formulated.  With  a  knowledge  of 
what  it  means  to  be  good  or  evil  one  may  con- 
clude in  all  seriousness  whether  the  fortunes  of 
society  in  any  time  or  place  were  good  or  evil. 
One  may  with  meaning  distinguish  between  those 
who  have  been  the  friends  and  the  enemies  of  so- 
ciety; and  one  may  refer  to  the  growth  or  decay  of 
nations  with  some  notion  of  what  these  terms 
signify.  But  it  will  be  the  main  problem  of  a 
philosophy  of  history  to  deliver  some  "verdict 
concerning  the  progress  or  decline  of  institutions, 
and  of  civilization  at  large. 

It  is  necessary  that  we  should  at  once  rid^ojir 
minds  of  false  notions  concerning  the  meaning  of 
progress.  ^This  conception  has  been  greatly  con- 
fused during  recent  times  through  being  identi- 
fied with  evolution  in  the  biological  sense.  It 
should  be  perfectly  clear 


vporal 


126          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

may  not  be  progressive;  it  means  only  a  con- 
tinuous modification  of  life  in  accordance  with  the 
!  demands  of  the  environment.  Even  where  this 
y  modification  takes  the  direction  of  increasing 
complexity  it  does  not  necessarily  constitute 
betterment;  and  it  is  entirely  consistent  with  the 
principle  of  adaptation  that  it  should  take  the  re- 
verse direction.  Biological  evolution  signifies  only  a 
steady  yieMing  to  the  pressure  of  the  physical 
environment^*  whether  for  better  or  for  worse. 
«LJ  It  is  also  importanT*noT  to  confuse  the  concep- 
tion of  progress  with  that  of  mere  change  or  tem- 
duration.  Because  society^  has  grown 
older  it  has  not  necessarily  on  that  account 
grown  wiser;  nor  because  it  has  changed  much 
has  it  necessarily  on  that  account  changed  for 
the  better.  Whether  the  accumulations  of  the 
past  are  wealth  or  rubbish  is  not  to  be  deter- 
mined by  their  bulk. 

Progress  cleared  of  these  ambiguities  means, 
thenpa  change  from  good  to  better;  an  increase, 
in  the  course  of  time,  of  the  value  of  life,  whatever 
that  may  be.  Taken  in  the  absolute  sense  it 
means,  not  a  gain  here  or  a  gain  there,  but  a  gain 
on  the  whole.  It  is  impossible  to  reach  any  con- 
clusion whatsoever  concerning  progress  except 
in  the  light  of  some  conception  of  the  total  enter- 
prise of  life.  Every  advance  must  be  estimated 
not  merely  in  relation  to  the  interest  immediately 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     127 

served,  but  in  relation  to  that  whglejcomplex  of 
interests 


In  discussing  progress  I  shall  therefore  with 
right  employ  those  moral  conceptions  which  I 
have  akeady^jiefined.  I  shall  regard  as  good 
whatever  fulfils  interests,  and  ^as~  morally 
whatever  fulfils  all  interests  affected  to  the  maxi- 
mum degree.  Especial  importance  now  attaches 
to  the  principle  which  I  have  phrased  the  quanti-j~ 
tative  basis  of  preference.  Since  progress  in- 
volves the  change  from  good  to  better,  it  implies 
an  increment  of  value.  The  later  age  is  judged 
to  be  as~goo(l  and  better.  I  can  see  no  way  of 
verifying  such  a  proposition  unless  it  be  possible 
to  find  in  the  greater  good  both  the  lesser  good 
and  also  sometlnng_added  to  it  and  likewise  ac- 
counted good.  IiTotEer  words,  progress  involves 
measurement  of  va.lueT  and  this  involves  some 
unit  of  value  which  is  common  to  the  terms 
compared.  The  method  must  be  in  the  last  an-lrf 
alysis  that  of  super]mj:£>sition.  (  A^^i, 

Bagehot  virtually  employs  this  method  in 
the  chapter  of  his  Physics  and  Politics,  which 
he  entitles  "Verifiable  Progress  Politically  Con- 
sidered." Let  me  quote,  for  example,  his  com- 
parison of  the  Englishman  with  the  primitive 
Australian. 

If  we  omit  the  higher  but  disputed  topics  of  morals 
and  religion,  we  shall  find,  I  think,  that  the  plainer 


128          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

and  agreed-on  superiorities  of  the  Englishmen  are 
these:  ^first,  that  they  have  a  greater  command  over 
the  powers  of  nature  upon  the  whole.  Though  they 
may  falf  short  of  individual  Australians  in  certain 
feats  of  petty  skill,  though  they  may  not  throw  the 
boomerang  as  well,  or  light  &  fire  with  earthsticks 
as  well,  yet  on  the  whole  twenty  Englishmen  with  their 
implements  and  skill  can  change  the  material  world 
immeasurably  more  than  twenty  Australians  and 
their  machines.  £' Secondly,  that  this  power  is  not 
external  only;  it  is  also  internal.  The  English  not 
only  possess  better  machines  for  moving  nature, 
but  are  themselves  better  machines.  Mr.  Babbage 
taught  us  years  ago  that  one  great  use  of  machinery 
was  not  to  augment  the  force  of  man,  but  to  register 
and  regulate  the  power  of  man;  and  this  in  a  thousand 
ways  civilized  man  can  do,  and  is  ready  to  (}o,  better 
and  more  precisely  than  the  barbarian J 'Thirdly, 
civilized  man  has  not  only  greater  powers  over  nature, 
but  knows.better  how  to  use  them,  and  by  better  I 
here  mean  better  for  the  Tiealth  and  comfort  of  his 
present  body  and  mind.  He  can  lay  up  for  old  age, 
which  a  savage  having  no  durable  means  of  sustenance 
cannot;  he  is  ready  to  lay  up  because  he  can  distinctly 
foresee  the  future,  which  the  vague-minded  savage 
j  cannot.2 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  each  case  the  superi- 
ority of  the  Englishmen  lies  in  the  fact  that  they 
beat  the  Australians  at' their  own  game.  Aus- 
tralians are  as  much  interested  as  Englishmen  in 
^obtaining  command  over  nature,  Sn  organizing 
their  own  powers/'and  in  securing  health  and 
comfort.  The  Englishmen,  however,  can  fulfil 
these  interests  not  only  up  to  but  also  beyond 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     129 

the  point  which  marks  the  limit  oi  the  Australians' 
attainment. 

The  method  of  superimposkion-is  virtually 
employed  in  all  competitive  struggle.  The  glory 
and  fruits  of  victory  are  sought  by  both  oppo- 
nents, and  the  success  of  one  is  the  failure  of  the 
other.  The  superiority  of  the  victor  to  the  van- 
quished is  beyond  question  only  because  they  had 
the  same  interest  at  stake. 

The  application  of  this  method  to  the  determi- 
nation of  progress  is  not  confined  to  philosophers 
of  history."  It  is  applied  by  every  individual  who 
realizes  that  his  advance  from  childhood  to  ma- 
turity has  been  attended  with  growth  and  devel- 
opment. For  the  old  boundaries  of  childhood 
still  remain  as  evidence  of  the  greater  magnitude 
of  the  life  which  has  outgrown  them.  Similarly 
every  man  may  mark  within  himself  the  various 
limits  which  once  bounded  him,  but  which  he  has 
since  exceeded  in  consequence  of  steady  and  con- 
secutive effort.  The  progress  of  mankind  at 
large  differs  only  in  complexity  and  range.  It 
can  be  tested  and  determined  only  because 
identical  interests  persist.  If  men  had  not  in  all 
times  wanted  the  same  things  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  measure  their  attainments.  Their 
successes  and  failures  would  be  incommensura- 
ble. But  the  Qld  needs  and  the  old  hopes  yet 
remain.  The  problem  of  life  which  was  from 


i3o          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

the  beginning  is  a  problem  still.  //If  it  can  be  ^ 

;  o      shown  that  the  old  needs  are  met  more  easily, 

/  J)      along  with  new  needs  besides,^  that  there  is  bet- 

ter promise  That  the  hopes  will  be  fulfilled,|and 

that  the  general  problem  of  life  is  nearer  a  solu- 

tion, then  human  progress  will  have  been  demon- 

strated. 


I  propose,  in  the  first  place,  to  discuss  two 
general  principles,  the  operation  of  which  is^cpn^ 
ducive_to__progress.  One  of  these  principles  is 
external,  that  is,  it  relates  to  the  environment  of 
life  rather  than  to  its  internal  economy;  and  to 
this  I  shall  turn  first. 

The  external  environment  of  life  is  in  some  re- 
spects favorable,  in  other  respects  unfavorable. 
Now,  strangely  enough,  it  is  the  tMavorable 
rather  than  the  favorable  aspect  of  the  environ- 


ment tw  roniirftft  fr>  pfogf«*Je  Progress,  or 
even  the  least  good,  would,  of  course,  be  impossi- 
ble, unless  the  mechanical  environment  was  mor- 
ally plastic.  The  fact  that  nature  submits  to  the 
organization  which  we  call  life  is  a  fundamental 
and  constant  condition  of  all  civilization.  But 
there  is  nothing  in  the  mere  compliance  of  nature 
to  press  life  forward.  It  is  the  menace  of  nature 
which  stimulates  progress.  It  is  because  nature 
always  remains  a  source  of  difficulty  and  danger 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     131 

that  life  is  provoked  to  renew  the  war  and  achieve 
a  more  thorough  conquest.  Nature  will  not  per- 
mit life  to  keep  what  it  has  unless  it  gains  more. 

The  external  environment  of  life  embraces 
not  only  mechanical  nature,  but  also  such  out- 
lying units  of  life  as  have  not  yet  been  brought 
into  harmonious  relations.  Conflict  between  in- 
dividuals, tribes,  races,  or  nations  operates  in  a 
manner  analogous  to  mechanical  nature.  It  ex- 
erts a  constant  pressure  in  the  direction  of  greater 
strength  and  efficiency.  In  order  that  man  shall 
not  be  robbed  by  his  enemies  of  what  he  already 
has,  he  must  forever  be  attempting  to  make 
himself  impregnable  and  formidable. 

But  war  and  the  struggle  with  nature  not  only 
put  a  premium  on  the  better  organization  of  life; 
they  also  make  it  a  condition  of  permanence. 
Superior  individuals  survive  when  inferior  indi- 
viduals perish  in  the  struggle,  or  the  superior 
type  obtains  an  ascendency  over  the  inferior.  In 
human  warfare  the  defeated  party  is  rarely  if 
ever  utterly  annihilated;  it  tends,  however,  to 
lose  its  prestige  or  even  its  identity  through  being 
assimilated  to  the  victorious  party.  In  either  case; 
that  form  of  life  which  in  conflict  proves  itself  j 
the  stronger,  tends  to  prevail,  through  the  exclu- 
sion of  those  forms  which  prove  themselves  weaker. 

An  unfavorable  environment  has,  then,  oper- 
ated externally  to  develop  coherence  and  unity 


132          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

in  life.  But  the  cost  has  been  prodigious,  and 
must  be  subtracted  from  the  gain.  For  there  is 
no  virtue  in  conflict  save  the  strength  of  the  victor. 
Man  has  made  a  virtue  of  this  necessity;  but  to 
obviate  so  dire  a  necessity  becomes  one  of  the 
first  tasks  which  civilization  undertakes.  The 
attempt  to  eliminate  conflict,  and  reduce  to  a 
minimum  the  sacrifice  of  special  interests,  marks 
the  operation  of  the  internal  or  moral  principle  of 
progress.  During  the  historical  period  this  prin- 
ciple assumes  a  constantly~greater  prominence. 

A  society  may  be  said  to  be  internally  progres- 
sive  when  it  can  afford  to  withdraw  some~oFlts' 
energies  from  the  struggle  for  existence,  and  de- 
vote~tfaera  to  the  improvement  of  meTEod  and  the 
savmg"oTwaste!  Its  stability  and  "security"  must 
be  so  farguaranteed  as  to  make  it  safe  to  under- 
take a  reconstruction,  calculated  to  provide  more 
fully  for  its  constituent  interests  and  develop  its 
latent  possibilities.  There  now  obtains,  within 
limits  that  tend  steadily  to  expand,  what  B age- 
hot  calls  "government  by  discussion,"  that  is, 
the  regulation  of  action  by  the'mvention,  selec- 
tion, and  trial  of  the  best  means.  This  substi- 
tution of  rational  procedure  for  custom  is  anTrre- 
versible  and  germinal  process.  Let  me  quote 
Bagehot's  account  of  it: 

A  government  by  discussion,  if  it  can  be  borne,  at 
once  breaks  down  the  yoke  of  fixed  custom.    The 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     133 

idea  of  the  two  is  inconsistent.  As  far  as  it  goes,  the 
mere  putting  up  of  a  subject  to  discussion  is  a  clear 
admission  that  that  subject  is  in  no  degree  settled 
by  established  rule,  and  that  men  are  free  to  choose 
in  it.  ...  And  if  a  single  subject  or  group  of  sub- 
jects be  once  admitted  to  discussion,  ere  long  the 
habit  of  discussion  comes  to  be  established,  the  sacred 
charm  of  use  and  wont  to  be  dissolved.  "  Democracy," 
it  has  been  said  in  modern  times,  "is  like  the  grave; 
it  takes,  but  it  does  not  give.'*  The  same  is  true  of 
" discussion."  Once  effectually  submit  a  subject 
to  that  ordeal,  and  you  can  never  withdraw  it  again; 
you  can  never  again  clothe  it  with  mystery,  or  fence 
it  by  consecration;  it  remains  forever  open  to  free 
choice,  and  exposed  to  profane  deliberation.3 

The  strength  of  custom  or  established  authority 
lies  in  prompt  and  undivided  action  against  ex- 
ternal enemies;  but  its  weakness  lies  in  its  exces- 
sive cost  to  the  interests  within.  And  when  there 
is  leisure  and  security  for  deliberation,  the  policy 
and  organization  of  society  must  respond  at  once 
to  the  claims  of  these  interests.  Development  is 
now  due  to  a  mojal  rather  than  to  a  mechanical 
principle;  that  is,  the  surviving  type  of  life  is  due 
not  to  pressure  and  elimination  from  without, 
but  to  a  provident  concern  that  emanates  from 
within.  There  is  a  deliberate  intention  to  pro- 
mote survival,  those  interests  alone  being  re- 
stricted or  suppressed  which  do  not  comply  with 
this  intention.  There  evolves  not  a  selected 
group  of  strong  individuals,  but  a  strong  com- 
munity, strong  because  both  full  of  life,  or  rich 


I34          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

in  incentive,  and  also  harmonious.  And  within 
such  a  community  the  strength  of  individuals 
lies  not  in  a  sheer  power  to  resist  the  strain  of  com- 
petition, but  in  the  rational  and  moral  capacity 
to  utilize  the  resources  of  the  entire  community. 
Through  moral  organization  the  strong  are  made 
stronger  at  the  same  time  that  the  weak  are  made 
strong. 

)  Strictly  speaking,  there  is  only  one  internal  prin- 
iple^of  progresSjjiamely,  rationality.  By  raflon- 
dity^in  this  connection,  I  mean  the  knowledge  of 
the  good,  and  the  correction  of  existing  usages 
through  which  it  is  accidentally  or  wantonly  frus- 
trated. If  fulfilment  be  the  motive  of  life,  and 
maximum  fulfilment  be  the  good,  then  any  existing 
usage  stands  condemned  when  it  is  proved  to  in- 
volve unnecessary  sacrifice.  And  such  usages  will 
be  condemned,  and  in  the  long  run  rejected,  wher- 
ever there  is  an  opportunity  for  self-assertion  and 
discussion  among  the  various  interests  concerned. 
But  such  corrgc^jon  may  be^  initiated  either  by  a 
positive  or  a  negative  motive.  It  may  result 
either  from  the  action  of  those  who  seek  con- 
structively to  promote  the  general  welfare  of  so- 
ciety, or  from  the  action  of  those  who  protest 
against  society  in  behalf  of  neglected  -  interests. 
The  first  is  constructive  reform,  the  second,  revolu- 
tion. 
Constructive  reform  is  the  work  of  disinterested 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     135 

reflection.  It  may  originate  in  speculation,  as 
political  or  social  theory;  or  it  may  originate  in 
the  solution  of  a  practical  problem.  Plato  has 
described  the  type  of  mind  which  in  either  case  it 
requires:  a  mind  which  is  free  from  individual 
or  party  bias,  and  which  represents  and  co-ordi- 
nates all  the  interests  of  the  community.  Now  the 
failure  of  political  and  social  theories  as  measures 
of  reform  is  proverbial;  none  failed  more  com- 
pletely and  conspicuously  than  Plato's  own.  And 
it  is  not  difficult  to  see  why  this  should  be  the  case; 
for,  as  a  rule,  they  are  adapted  neither  to  the 
habits  and  intelligence  of  the  time,  nor  to  the  actual 
instruments  of  practical  efficiency.  But  it  may 
be  observed  that  the  distance  between  the  philos- 
opher and  the  man  of  affairs  is  considerably 
shorter  than  it  used  to  be.  The  method  of  dis- 
cussion being  once  generally  adopted,  action, 
both  individual  and  social,  is  pervaded  with  theory. 
Even  the  man  of  affairs  cannot  easily  avoid  being 
a  philosopher. 

And  even  in  distinguishing  as  sharply  as  I  have 
between  theory  and  practice,  I  have  simply  fol- 
lowed  a  customary  habit  of  thought  that  is  on  the 
whole  misleading.  For,  in  truth,  it  is  as  impossi- 
ble for  the  man  of  affairs  to  avoid  disinterested 
reflection,  as  it  is  for  ^he  commercial  traveller  to 
be  unsociable.  The  activity  of  the  one  has  to 
do  with  the, organization  of  a  wide  range  of  inter- 


136          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ests,  as  the  activity  of  the  other  has  to  do  with  the 
capitalization  of  good-fellowship. 

Those  of  you  who  are  familiar  with  the  First 
Book  of  Plato's  Republic  will  remember  the 
account  given  there  of  the  forced  benevolence  of 
the  tyrant.  It  is,  I  believe,  one^bT^the  great 
classics  in  ethical  theory;  and  although  its  full 
meaning  will  not  appear  until  we  deal  directly 
with  the  problem  of  government,  I  must  allude 
to  it  here  for  the  sake  of  the  principle  involved. 
The  sophist  of  the  dialogue,  one  Thrasymachus, 
attempts  to  overthrow  Socrates's  conclusion  that 
virtue  is  essentially  beneficent,  by  pointing  to 
the  case  of  the  tyrant,  who  is  eminent  and  power- 
ful, as  every  one  would  wish  to  be,  but  who  is  at 
the  same  time  wholly  unscrupulous.  He  is  the 
symbol  of  success,  in  that  he  can  on  all  occasions 
do  what  it  pleases  him  to  do,  and  with  no  regard 
for  the  feelings  of  others.  Now  Socrates  in  his 
reply  is  not  satisfied  to  show  that  even  the  tyrant 
must  have  some  scruples;  he  goes  to  the  length 
of  asserting  that  the  tyrant  must  of  all  persons 
in  the  community  have  the  most  scruples.  And 
the  reason  which  Socrates  advances  is  unanswer- 
able. The  tyrant  is  the  one  person  in  the  com- 
munity who  has  to  please  everybody.  He  owes 
his  position  and  power,  not  to  any  directly  pro- 
ductive activity,  such  as  agriculture,  industry,  or 
military  service,  but  wholly  to  his  skill  in  organi- 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     137 

zing  and  promoting  interests  that  are  not  primarily 
his  own.  To  be  sure,  he  has  his  hire;  but  to  earn 
it  he  must  pay  every  man  his  price. 

Now  let  us  apply  this  to  the  general  case  of  the 
man  of  affairs.  It  forfows  that  just  in  so  far  as 
action  is  broadrin  scope,  it  must  be  considerate 
and  just.  To  conduct  enterprises  on-~a  large 
scale  involves  contact  with  many  interests,  and 
these  interests,  once  affected,  must  either  be  under- 
stood and  provided  for  or  else  antagonized.  The 
greater  the  enterprise,  the  more  truly  does  it  exist 
by  sufferance;  it  depends  on  the  support  of  those 
who  profit  by  it,  and  if  that  support  be  withdrawn, 
it  collapses  into  absolute  impotence.  The  ancient 
Cynics  were  right  in  thinking  that  the  only  man 
who  can  afford  to  be  indifferent  to  the  interests 
of  his  fellows  is  the  man  who  renounces  ambition 
and  retires  to  his  tub. 

Once  the  era  of  civilization  is  inaugurated,      *j 
power  depends  on  moral  capacity,  that  is,  the  r 
capacity  to  protect  anoT~promote"""a  considerable 
number^of  ^interests,  and  inris  will  their  backing. 
This~is~  prb^eoTiri  every  field  of  human  activity, 
military,  political,  religious,  intellectual,   social, 
or  commercial.     Commerce  and  industry  afford 
at  present  the  most  striking  examples.    The  manl 
who  succeeds  is  the  man  who  can  satisfy  the  great-/ 
est  number  of  appetites.     And  the  more  his  enter-' 
prise  grows  the  more  it  becomes  a  public  concern; 


138         THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

and  the  more,  therefore,  must  he  be  studious  of 
public  welfare  and  responsive  to  public  opinion. 
Thus  manufacturing,  transportation,  or  banking, 
when  conducted  on  a  large  scale,  touch  life  at  so 
many  points,  that  he  who  seeks  to  gain  power  or 
wealth  by  means  of  them  will  gradually  and  with- 
out any  abrupt  change  of  motive  approximate  the 
method  of  disinterested  service.  So  every  sta- 
tion in  life,  from  that  of  the  ruler  to  that  of  the 
shopkeeper,  has  its  own  characteristic  form  of 
the  one  problem  of  meeting,  adjusting  and  ful- 
filling interests.  The  desire  to  be  successful  or 
to  attain  eminence  in  one's  station  exerts  a  con- 
stant pressure  in  the  direction  of  the  invention, 
trial,  and  selection  of  methods  that  will  solve 
this  problem.  And  such  methods  once  devised 
are  at  once  supported  by  the  interests  they  serve, 
and  become  necessary  to  the  life  of  the  com- 
munity. 

Now  the  wise  leader  ^anticipates  the  needs  and 
wishes  of  his  followers,  and  so  enjoys  TEelr  con- 
tinued support  without  ever  seeming  to  depend 
on  it.  But  there  are  very  few  such  wise  leaders. 
The  reason  for  their  scarcity  lies  in  the  natural 
inertia  of  profitable  activities.  There  is  a  uni- 
versal propensity  to  let  well  enough  alone.  So 
methods  are  allowed  to  outlive  their  usefulness, 
or  remain  unmodified  when  more  provident  and 
fruitful  methods  could  be  devised.  When  leader- 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     139 

ship  thus  fails  to  be  statesmanlike  and  far-sighted, 
there  occurs  that  uprising  of  the  disaffected  in- 
terests which  is  called  revolution. 
Jol  Revolution,  then,  is  the  self-assertion  of  the, 
various  constituent  interests  which  do  not  find 
room_or  fair  measjirgwitnin  the  existing  organiza- 
Jiorj^  The  evidence  of  the  insufficiency  of  pres- 
ent methods  being  neglected  by  those  in  charge, 
that  evidence  makes  itself  known.  In  the  long 
run  this  is  the  surest  principle  of  progress,  because 
it  is  brought  into  operation  by  those  who  have  a 
nearer  ^.or  more  indispensable  interest  at  stake. 
It  is  unquestionably  to  the  interest  of  the  individ- 
ual who  heads  an  enterprise  to  conduct  it  ration- 
ally, that  is,  to  make  it  always  as  productive  as 
possible  for  all  the  interests  which  it  serves.  But 
ifshe  fails  he  may  not  at  once  incur  the  penalty, 
or  be  conscious-oHr/if  he-does;  he  may  only  for- 
feit an  increase  of  power,  or  render  his  position 
precarious.  On  the  other  hand,  to  the  constit- 
uent interest  which  is  sacrificed,  this  same~failure 
may  mean  luss  of  bread— or  even  loss  of  life. 
Hence  the  latter  is  more  sure  to  move  in  the  mat- 
ter. Justice  is  more  urgently  needed  by  the  slave 
who  rebels,  tfeair-tqr  the  master  who  may  be 
brought  tKrough  enlightenment  to  liberate  him. 

I  Thus  neglected  interests  have  been  the  conscience^/ 
of  every  great  h'umaii  refurinr — Let  me_cile^the  / 
two  greatest  cases  of  this  in  the  history  of  Euro-  * 


i4o          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

pean  civilization,  Christianity  and  the  French 
Revolution. 

Christianity  as  a  social  revolution  was  a  pro- 
test against  the  existing  order ~on  the  part  of  in- 
terests which  it  did  not  recognize.  I  do  not  mean 
that  these  interests  were  not  tolerated;  they  were, 
of  course,  protected,  and  even  given  a  legal  status. 
But  in  the  reckoning  of  good  and  evil'tEey  were 
(not  counted.  Women  and  slaves,  the  poor,  the 
ill-born,  and  the  ignorant,  were  instruments  which 
fthe  happy  man  might  use,  or  incidents  of  life 
which  might  test  his  charity  and  magnanimity. 
These  classes  rose  to  overthrow  no  single  insti- 
tution, but  a^vhole  conception_oLU|gL  or^stand- 
ard  of  well-being  which  was  denned  to  exclude 
them^yin  paganism,  which  did  not  pass  with 
the  advent  of  Christianity,  but  still  lingers  as  the 
creed  of  the  very  precious  souls,  humanity  is  con- 
ceived only  qualitatively,  and  not  quantitatively. 
The  good  of  tHe  race  is  conceived  to  consist  in  the 
perfection  ^of  a  few,  chosen  for  their  superior  en- 
dowment and  fortune.  The  eminent  refinement 
and  nobility  of  these  demigods  is  substituted  for 
the  saving  of  lives,  for  the  general  distribution 
of  welfare  and  opportunity.  The  many  are  to 
find  compensation  for  their  hardship  in  the  happi- 

\ness  of  the  few^fcJBut  the  Christian  principle  of 
atonement  was  the  precise  opposite  of  this:  one 
suffered  that  all  might  be  blessed.  Christianity 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     141 

looked  towards  a  good  that  should  number  every 
one  in  the  multitude  and  endure  throughout  all 
time.  Now  it  has  since  appeared  that  this  was  no 
more  than  the  truth;  and  that  it  might  have  been 
conceived  and  executed  by  the  wise  men,  had 
they  only  been  more  wise.  But  they  were  wise 
only  within  the  limits  of  their  own  conceit.  Hence 
it  took  the  form  of  an  assault  on  the  established 
enlightenment.  The  many,  with  their  yearning 
for  a  universal  happiness,  with  their  deep  concern 
for  the  greater  good,  and  their  jealous  compassion 
for  all  souls,  destroyed  the  narrow  eminence  of 
the  few.  Thus  Christianity  was  a  revolution,  and 
not  a  constructive  reform. 

The  French  Revolution  was  a  protest  not  only 
against  apathy,  but  against  insolence  as  well.  It 
was  a  demand  of  the  nianyjiol_niej;ely  to  be  happy, 
but  to  have  what  they  called  their  " rights"  re- 
spected; a  protest  against  authority,  not  only  Be- 
cause it  was  cruel,  but  because  it  was  arbitrary, 
tyrannical.  Hence  it  was  aimed  against  priestcraft 
as  well  as  against  monarchy.  It  was  based  on 
the  conviction  that  no  one  is  so  justly  entitled 
to  pass  judgment  on  a  man's  affairs  as  a  man 
himself.  But  it  was  a  cry  from  the  depths,  the 
bitter  resentment  of  a  long-standing  abuse.  There- 
fore it  took  the  form  of  an  uprising  against  the 
established  order;  and  while  it  opened  men's  eyes, 
if  was  not  conducted  in  the  spirit  of  enlighten- 


142          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ment.    In  spite  of  his  inferences,  Nietsche  has 
not  described  the  matter  falsely: 

The  slave  .  .  .  loves  as  he  hates,  without  nuance, 
to  the  very  depths,  to  the  point  of  pain,  .  .  .  his 
many  hidden  sufferings  make  him  revolt  against  the 
noble  taste  which  seems  to  deny  suffering.  The 
scepticism  with  regard  to  suffering,  fundamentally 
only  an  attitude  of  an  aristocratic  morality,  was  not 
the  least  of  the  causes,  also,  of  the  last  great  slave 
insurrection  which  began  with  the  French  Revolution.4 

Insurrection^  in  other  words,  is  the  flat,  down- 
right, and  unqualified  affirmation  of  interests  to 
N  which  those  in  charge  of  affairsTave~ttenied  ex- 
istence. It  is  a  flash  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  will 
not  see;  a  blast  in  the  ears  of  those  who  will  not 
hear.  Insurrection  asserts  only  the  interests 
that  have  been  neglected;  hence,  though  it  brings 
new  light,  that  light  for  lack  of  which  the  world 
went  in  darkness,  it  is  careless  and  blind  in  its 
own  way,  and  does  not  concern  itself  with  re- 
storing the  balance.  But,  as  Nietsche  prefers 
not  to  comprehend,  insurrection  demonstrates 
beyond  question  the  bankruptcy  of  aristocratic 
morality;  discredits  it  as  effectually,  and  in  the 
same  way,  as  new  evidence  discredits  old  theories. 

These,  then,  are  the  two  complementary  meth- 
ods  through  which  rationality  gets  itself  "pro- 
gressively established  I/through  the  imagination 
and  foresight  of  constructive  minds,  ancftnrough 
the  protest  or  uprising  oFneglected  interests. 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     143 

I  must  mention  briefly,  before  leaving  this  gen- 
eral topic,  an-  accessory  condition  on  which  this  • 
internal  principle  of  progress  depends  for  its  ef-  I 
fectual  working.  It  is  necessary  that  the  life  of  I 
society  should  be  unbroken;  that  its  achieve- 
ments should  be  preserved  and  accumulated  from  \ 
generation  to  generation.  This  is  provided  for 
in  the  permanence  of  records,  monuments,  and 
institutions;  but  these  are  of  less  consequence  ^ 
than  the  continuity  of  tradition.  Generations 
of  men  do  not  come  into  being  and  pass  away 
like  regiments  in  marching  order.  There  is  no 
present  generation;  unless  one  arbitrarily  selects 
those  of  a  certain  age  to  represent  the  spirit  of  the 
day.  He  who  is  born  now,  enters  into  the  midst 
of  a  social  life  in  which  the  present  is  blended 
with  the  past  through  the  interpenetration  of  in- 
dividual lives  of  every  stage  of  maturity.  The 
threads  are  innumerably  many,  and  their  length 
is  but  threescore  years  and  ten;  but  there  is  no 
place  at  which  more  than  a  few  end,  so  that  they 
are  woven  into  one  continuous  and  seamless 
fabric.  It  does  not  exceed  the  facts,  then,  to  say 
that  the  life  of  society  is  one  life,  which  may 
gather  headway,  increase  in  wealth,  and  profit 
by  experience.  Through  this  continuity  society 
may  learn,  as  the  individual  organism  does,  by 
the  method  of  trial  and  error.  Costly  blunders 
need  not  be  repeated,  and  the  waste  involved 


144          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

in  untried  experiments  may  steadily  be  reduced. 

\  Furthermore,  the  advance  is  by  geometrical,  and 

*not  merely  by  arithmetical  progression.     Every 

discovery  and  achievement  is  multiplied  in  fruit- 

fulness  through  being  added  to  the  capital  stock 

and  reinvested  in  fresh  enterprises. 

" 


Human  progress,  thus  determined  by  the  move- 
ment of  life  towards  its  more  rational,  that  is,  more 
provident,  organization,  is  attended  in  all  its 
stages  with  a  very  significant  difference  of  em- 
phasis. '  I  refeTloTrie"~old  conflict  between  con- 
servatism and  radicalism.  If  this  were  merely 
a  difference  of  temperamental  bias,  it  would  not 
need  to  detain  us.  But  it  is  really  an  opposition 
between  exaggerated  truths,  in  which  each  is 
boldly  and  impressively  defined.  ^ 

The  truth  of  conservatism  lies/first,  in  its  love 
of  the  existing  ordefrT""Every  established  form 
of  Social  fife  hat  had  a  certain  wholeness  and 
strength  and  perfection  of  its  own.  This  is  as  true 
of  savagery  as  it  is  of  any  type  of  civilization. 
Interests  are  in  equjlibnum,  and  are  guaranteed 
security  within  certain  limits  that  are  generally 
understood.  In  other  words,  at  least  a  measure 
of  fulfilment  may  be  counted  on.  The  conservative 
is  right  in  valuing  this  as  a  prodigious  achieve- 
ment. He  knows  that  disorder  is  ruin,  not  to 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     145 

any  class,  but  to  all;  the  paralysis,  if  not  the  ab- 
solute destruction,  of  all  fruitful  activities. 
/))And  secondly,  conservatism  proclaims  the 
truth  that  since  order  conditions  all  activity,  it 
is  impossible  to  promote  human  welfare  except 
by  using~vr&er.  The  enemy  of  order  threatens 
to  destroy  the  instruments  of  power,  and  so  to 
make  himself  weak  and  helpless  with  the  rest. 
The  conservative  understands  the  real  delicacy 
of  these  instruments,  and  the  difficulty  of  remod- 
elling them  while  still  forced  to  use  them.  For 
nothing  puts  so  great  a^tiaia  on  society  as  prog-  ' 
ress.  It  tends  to  destroy  its  rigidity,  to  dull  its 
edge,  and  fb~5p6ir!heTne~adjustment  without 
which  so  complex  an  organization  cannot  func- 
tion. There  could  be  no  human  life  whatsoever, 
and  still  less  a  progressive  life,  were  not  the  great 
mass  of  men  content  to  remain  steadily  in  their 
places,  and  so  form  parts  of  a  ^table  structure. 
An  organization  cannot  actually  work  until  it  is 
in  equilibrium. 

Now  while  the  conservative  fears  to  "swap 
horses  while  crossing  the  stream, "  the  .radical 
reminds  him  that  if  he  does  not  do  so  he  will  never 
gain  the  farther  shore.  The  conservative  is  sat- 
isfied to  sit  firmly  in  the  saddle,  but  the  radical 
thinks  only  of  the  long  distance  yet  to  go.  There 
is  a  common  misconception  as  to  who  is  the  real 
radical,  the  real  menace  to  this  existing  orcfer. 


i46          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

He  is  notjhe  sceptic,  but  the  manwith  a  purpose;  I 
the  man  who  believes  in  the  possibility  ofTretterJ 
things,  and  so  has  a  motive  impelling  him  to  k 
abolish  and  reconstruct  the  present  things.  The 
sceptic,  who  holds  all  order  to  be  conventional 
and  arbitrary,  is  as  well  satisfied  with  one  system 
as  anotKer.  His  natural  course  is  a  cynical  ac- 
quiescence in  the  inveterate  folly  of  mankind. 
Or,  finding  order  convenient,  and  fearing  that  its 
true  groundlessness  will  be  exposed  if  it  be  made 
a  matter  for  discussion,  he  advocates  blind 
obedience  to  the  authority  of  the  day.  Hence 
the  disillusioned,  especially  if  they  occupy  posi- 
tions of  power  in  church  or  state  or  trade,  may  be 
counted  on  as  the  leaders  of  conservative  policy. 
The  typicalzadicaj,  on  the  other  hand,  is  Socrates, 
who  censured  the  men  of  his  time  because  they 
were  satisfied  with  something  short  of  the  best; 
and  who  was  condemned  because  he  offered  men 
a  good  reason  for  reorganizing  life. 
<^yThe  radical,  like  the  conservative,  is  right. 
He  is  right,  in  the  first  place,  because  he  points 
out  that  the  stability  of  the  established  order  is 
not  proof  of  its  finality.  It  may  be,  indeed  al- 
ways will  be,  largely  due  to  habit.  Society  for- 
feits a  greater  good  through  mere  inertia,  through 
the  tendency  of  any  organization  of  interests 
which  runs  smoothly  and  brings  a  steady  return, 
to  perpetuate  itself.  The  radical  is  the  .critic  of 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     147 

custom,  condemning  it  for  timidly  clinging  to  the 
present  good,  and  abandoning  the  original  in- 
tent of  life  to  attain  to  the  maximum. 

The  radical  isjright,  secondly,  because  he  pip- 
tests  thatjso  long  as  there  is  the  least  waste  of 
Iife4  the  least  wanton  suppression  or  destruction  of 
interests,  the  work  of  civilization  is  no|  done.  He 
represents  those  interests  which  under  any  system 
are  most  heavily  taxed,  and  presses  for  their  relief. 

Conservatism  and  radicalism,  then,  are  the  two 
half-truths  into  which  the  principle  of  progress  is 
divided  by  the  propensity  of  every  human  ac- 
tivity to  override  the  mark,  and  by  the  confusion 
of  mind  that  cannot  fail  to  attend  so  venturesome 
and  bewildering  an  undertaking  as  civilization. 


I  have  said  that  it  is  possible  to  measure  prog- 
ress  because  of  the  persistence  throughout  the 
whole  course  of  human  history  of  certain  identical 
interests_and  ^purposes.  When  such  an  interest 
or  purpose  is  sufficiently  broad  in  its  scope,  and 
gets  itself  permanently  embodied,  it  is  called 
an  institution.  TEus  government  embodies  the 
need  of  the  general  regulation  of  interests  within 
tEe  social  community.  Education  is  due  to  the 
individual's  prolonged  period  of  helplessness  and 
dependence,  and  the  n^e^d  of  assimilating  him 
to  the  order  of  his  time.  Science  is  man's 


148          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

knowledge  of  the  ways  of  nature  in  detail,  when 
this  is  recorded,  organized,  and  preserved  as  a 
permanent  utility  answering  to  the  permanent 
need  oT~adaptation.  And  religion  expresses  in 
outer  form  the  human  need  of  reckoning  with  the 
final  day  of  judgment,  of  establishing  right  re- 
lations with  the  powers  that  underly  and  overrule 
the  proximate  sphere  of  life.  There  is  no  limited 
number  of  institutions,  but  these  are  notable 
examples.  Government,  education,  science,  and 
religion  are  fixed  moral  necessities.  They  arise 
out  of  those  conditions  of  life  which  are  gen- 
eral and  constant.  Hence  each  has  a  history 
coextensive  with  the  history  of  society  itself. 
And  since  the  function  of  each  remains  identical 
throughout,  the  adequacy  with  which  at  any 
given  time  it  fulfils  that  function  may  be  taken 
as  a  measure  of  civilization.  Government  being 
tne  most  Promment  °f  institutions,"  "and  its  im- 
provement  being  the  deepest  concern  of  society, 
*  i  Jf-'i  shall  select  it  for  special  consideration.5 

1  have  already  referred  to  thHPktonic  account 
of  government,  given  in  the  Republic.  It 
furnishes  the  starting-point  of  all  political  phil- 
osophy. In  the  First  and  Second  Books,  Plato 
examines  two  contrary  sceptical  criticisms  of 
government,  with  a  most  illuminating  result.  In 
the  First  Book  the  scepfic  urges  the  view  that 
government  represents  the  interest  of  the  strong; 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     149 

primarily  of  the  ruler  himself,  enabling  him  to 
aggrandize  himself  at  the  expense  of  the  weak. 
But  in  the  Second  Book  the  sceptic  is  made  to 
suggest  that  government  represents  rather  the 
interest  of  the  weak,  since  it  affords  him  a  pro- 
tection which  he  is  not  strong  enough  to  afford 
himself.  Now  the  moral  of  this  paradox  lies 
in  the  fact  that  government  represents  the  inter- 1 
est  neither  of  the  strong  nor  ^TtKe  weak,  but  of  I 
the  community  as  a  whole.  This  moraTis virTu- 
ally  pointed  in  the  reply  wKich  Plato  makes  to 
the  first  of  these  two  sceptical  positions.  The 
ruler  gains  his  power  and  prestige  not  from  the 
exploitation  of  the  interests  of  his  subjects,  but 
from  his  protection  of  them.  His  activity 
touches  all  the  interests  of  the  community,  and 
is  tolerated  only  in  so  far  as  it  conciliates  them. 
In  other  words,  his  strength  is  drawn  wholly 
from  the  constituency  which  he  serves.  The  many 
individual  interests,  on  the  other  hand,  owe  their 
security  to  that  concentration  and  organization 
which  centres  in  the  ruler.  They  only  participate 
in  a  power  which  the  ruler  may  exercise  and  en- 
joy as  a  unit.  But  unless  that  power  be  engaged 
in  their  service  it  ceases  to  exist.  It  is  not  a  per- 
sonal power,  but  a  permanent  function,  through 
which  the  many  interests  of  society  unite,  and^so 
share  severally  the  security,  glory,  and  resource- 
fulness of  the  whole  body. 


150          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

and  an  opportunity.  Suppose  men  to  be~~in  con- 
tact tEroughpropinquity  or  common  descent. 
Divided  among  themselves  they  are  prey  to 
natural  forces,  wild  beasts,  or  human  enemies. 
But  acting  as  a  unit  they  are  sufficiently  strong 
to  protect  themselves.  He  who  wields  them  as 
a  unit  to  this  end  is  for  the  time-being  the  ruler; 
and  to  submit  to  his  leadership  is  simply  to  sub- 
mit to  the  necessity  of  protection.  Or,  divided 
among  themselves,  they  remain  in  a  condition  of 
poverty  and  fear;  while  united  they  can  wage  an 
aggressive  campaign  against  nature,  and  against 
those  who  threaten  them  or  possess  what  they 
lack.  Again,  he  who  settles  their  internal  differ- 
ences, accomplishes  their^orga^ization,  and  makes 
it  effective,  is  their  ru^er;  and  he  owes  his  au- 
thority to  the  opportunity  of  conquest  which  his 
leadership  affords. 

f  The  fact  that  government  is  thus  of  natural 
origin^  the  inevitable  soiution^oi  an  inevitable 
problem,  has  been  obscured  through  confusing 
ifs~~general  necessity  with  the"  accidental  circum- 

I  stances  connected  with  the  selection  of  rulers. 
The  first  ruler  may  have  been  appointed  by  God; 
or,  as  is  more  likely,  he  may  have  owed  his  choice 
to  his  own  brutal  self-assertion.  But  this  has  no 
more  to  do  with  the  origin  of  the  function  of  gov- 
ernment, than  the  present  methods  of  ambitious 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     151 

politicians  have  to  do  with  the  constitutional  office 
of  a  republican  presidency.  Government  meets 
a  moral  need;  and  no  man  has  ever  ruled  over 
men  who  has  not  met  that  need,  however  cruel  and 
greedy  he  may  have  been  in  his  private  motives. 

From  the  very  beginning,  then,  government 
exists  by  virtue  jof^ the  good  that  it  does.  But 
there  have~BeeiTenormous  differences  in  the  price 
that  men  hayp-  pajH  fry-  "that— gnnr^j_  ariT  this 
constitutes  its  variable  and  progressive  factor. 
Tyranny  is,  in  the  long  run,  the  most  unstable 
form  of  government,  because  it  grossly  overesti- 
mates the  amount  that  men  will  pay  for  the  benefit 
of  order.  In  the  Antigone  of  Sophocles,  Creon 
thus  justifies  his  rule: 

Than  lawlessness  there  is  no  greater  ill.  It 
ruins  states,  overturns  homes,  and  joining  with  the 
spear-thrust  breaks  the  ranks  in  rout.  But  in  the 
steady  lines  what  saves  most  lives  is  discipline. 
Therefore  we  must  defend  the  public  order. 

But  when  his  son  Haemon  protests  against  his 
tyranny,  Creon  states  his  understanding  of  the 
bargain: 

CREON 

Govern  this  land  for  others  than  myself? 

H/EMON 

No  city  is  the  property  of  one  alone. 

CREON 
Is  not  the  city  reckoned  his  who  rules  ? 

H^MON 

Excellent  ruling — you  alone,  the  land  deserted!" 


152          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

In  other  words,  Creon  does  not  understand  that 
if  he  exacts  everything  he  will  possess  nothing. 
There  will  come  a  point  when  the  cost  to  the  com- 
munity exceeds  the  gain;  and  when  that  point  is 
reached  government  must  either  make  more  lib- 
er aHerms  or  forfeit  its  power. 

V  The  rjrinciple  of  rationality  in  government  is 
^  [parsimony]  When  its  benefit  involves  a  tasteful 
sacrifice  of  interests  and  may  be  purchased  more 
thriftily,  the  pressure  of  interest  inevitably  in 
the  long  run  brings  about  the  change.  The  in- 
terests upon  which  the  burden  weighs  most 
lieavily  const|tute_the  unstable  factor,  and  since, 
in  order  that  equilibrium  may  be  restored,  these 
must  be  relieved,  there  is  necessarily  a  gradual 
liberalization  of  governmental  institutions.  In 
the~light  of  these  general  considerations  I  wish 
briefly  to  examine  three  historical  types  of  gov- 
ernment, and  then  to  present  a  summary  of  pres- 
ent tendencies. 

y"/  There  is  an  interesting  estimate  of  the  benefits 
and  cost  of  the  ancient  military  monarchy  in  the 
history  of  Israel,  as  recorded  by  the  writer  of  the 
Book  of  Samuel.  The  elders  have  demanded 
that  Samuel  make  them  a  king,  to  judge  them, 
"like  all  the  nations."  But  he  first  warns  them 
of  the  price  that  they  will  have  to  pay: 

And  he  said,  This  will  be  the  manner  of  the  king 
that  shall  reign  over  you:  he  will  take  your  sons,  and 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     153 

appoint  them  unto  him,  for  his  chariots,  and  to  be 
his  horsemen;  and  they  shall  run  before  his  chariots: 
and  he  will  appoint  them  unto  him  for  captains  of 
thousands,  and  captains  of  fifties;  and  he  will  set 
some  to  plow  his  ground,  and  to  reap  his  harvest,  and 
to  make  his  instruments  of  war,  and  the  instruments 
of  his  chariots.  .  .  .  And  he  will  take  your  fields, 
and  your  vineyards,  and  your  oliveyards,  even  the 
best  of  them,  and  give  them  to  his  servants.  .  .  . 
And  he  will  take  your  men  servants,  and  your  maid- 
servants, and  your  goodliest  young  men,  and  your 
asses,  and  put  them  to  his  work.  He  will  take  the 
tenth  of  your  flocks:  and  ye  shall  be  his  servants. 
And  ye  shall  cry  out  in  that  day  because  of  your  king 
that  ye  shall  have  chosen  you. 

But  the  men  of  Israel  were  willing  to  pay  even 
this  price,  saying: 

Nay;  but  we  will  have  a  king  over  us;  that  we 
also  may  be  like  all  the  nations;  and  that  our  king 
may  judge  us,  and  go  out  before  us,  and  fight  our 
battles.' 

The  benefits  ofjnonarchy,  in  which  Israel  sought 
to  emulate  her  neighbors,  wej;e  judgment  and 
military  prowess.  Even  where  the  evils  of  tyranny 
were  most  aggravated  these  Benefits  actually 
accrued  and  constituted  a  rational  ground  of  &u- 
thority.  The  king  was,  at  least  in  a  measure, 
worthy  of  his  hire.  But  the  cost  was  extravagant; 
the  king  exacted  a  disproportionate  share  of  the 
plunder,  and  reduced  his  subjects  to  a  condition 
of  personal  bondage.  In  the  great  monarchies, 
such  as  Assyria,  Egypt,  Persia,  and  the  Roman 


154          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

Empire  in  its  later  period,  the  benefits  of  his  rule 
were  greatly  attenuated  before  they  reached  to 
the  depths  and  extremities  of  his  kingdom,  judg- 
ment being  reduced  to  the  caprice  of  an  irrespon- 
sible officer,  and  military  prowess  to  a  faint 
reflection  of  national  glory.  Now  the  weakness 
of  such  a  polity  lay  in  its  donbtful  value  to  the 
governed,  these  failing  to  participate  fairly  in  its 
achievements,  and  so  lacking  incentive  to  sup- 
?port  it.  There  was  no  clear  and  convincing 
identification  of  individual  interest  and  national 
purpose. 

The  strength  of  Greek  and  Roman  oligarchies, 
on  the  otheFnand,  lay  in  precisely  this  morale,  or 
solidarity  of  interest.  Their  small  size  and  racial 
homogeneity  brought  the  ruler  into  direct  rela- 
tions with  a  constituency  which  was  clearly  con- 
scious of  its  purpose  and  held  him  closely  to  it. 
So  even  where  the  kingship  lingered  on  as  a  form, 
this  polity  was  virtually  a  compact  self-governing 
community.  The  benefits  of  government,  to 
which  every  other  interest  was  harshly  subordi- 
nated, were  still  judgment  and  military  prowess. 
But  these  benefits  were  effectually  guaranteed; 
and  the  sacrifices  which  they  required  became  a 
code  of  honor,  both  to  be  praised  and  gloried 
in  as  parts  of  happiness.  Those  who  think  that 
the  Spartans  felt  their  discipline  to  be  essentially 
a  hardship  should  read  the  song  of  Tyrtaeus, 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     155 

which  they  recited  in  their  tents  on  the  eve  of 
battle: 

With  spirit  let  us  fight  for  this  land,  and  for  our 
children  die,  being  no  longer  chary  of  our  lives. 
Fight,  then,  young  men,  standing  fast  one  by  an- 
other, nor  be  beginners  of  cowardly  flight  or  fear. 
But  rouse  a  great  and  valiant  spirit  in  your  breasts, 
and  love  not  life  when  ye  contend  with  men.  And 
the  elders,  whose  limbs  are  no  longer  active,  the  old 
desert  not  or  forsake.  For  surely  this  were  shameful, 
that  fallen  amid  the  foremost  champions,  hi  front  of 
the  youths,  an  older  man  should  lie  low,  having  his 
head  now  white  and  his  beard  hoary,  breathing  out 
a  valiant  spirit  in  the  dust.  .  .  .  Yet  all  this  befits 
the  young  while  he  enjoys  the  brilliant  bloom  of 
youth.  To  mortal  men  and  women  he  is  lovely  to 
look  upon,  whilst  he  lives;  and  noble  when  he  has 
fallen  in  the  foremost  ranks. 8 

But  the  cost  is  none  the  less  heavy  because  it 
is  not  felt.£?  In  the  first  place,  llieit?  wao4he  cost 
untold  Lo  those  whom  the  oligarchy  held  in  suh- 
jection,  a  hundred  thousand  Messenians  and 
twice  as  many  Helots.  Their  .unequal  participa- 
tion in  the  benefits  of  government,  necessary 
though  it  may  have  been,  lent  instability  to  the 
whole  polity.  It  was  the  menace  of  their  resent- 
ment that  forced  upon  their  rulers  a  policy  of 
perpetual  vigilance  and  military  discipline.  ^And 
in  the  second  place,  there  was  the  cost  to  the  Spar- 
tan himself  of  attaining  to  a  physical  efficiency 
equal  to  that  of  ten  Helots. 


156          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

In  the  rival  polity  of  Athens,  the  first  of  these 
abuses  is  only  in  a  measure  correctedfThe  liberal 
extensiomrf  the  privileges  of  citizenship  is  the 
achievement  of  a  later  age.  But  the  democracy  of 
Athens  did  demonstrate  the  internal  wastefulness 
of  a  polity  dominated  by  purely  military  aims. 
The  classic  representation  of  this  protest  against 
sacrificing  individual  taste  and  capacity,  together 
with  all  growth  and  abundance  in  the  arts  of  peace, 
to  the  harsh  rigors  and  passive  obedience  of  a  sol- 
dier's life,  is  to  be  found  in  Thucydides.  In  the 
funeral  oration  attributed  to  Pericles  there  is  this 
account  of  Jthe  superiorjty_of  Athenian  institutions: 

It  is  true  that  we  are  called  a  democracy,  for  the 
administration  is  in  the  hands  of  the  many  and  not  of 
the  few.  But  while  the  law  secures  equal  justice 
to  all  alike  in  their  private  disputes,  the  claim  of  ex- 
cellence is  also  recognized;  and  when  a  citizen  is  in 
any  way  distinguished,  he  is  preferred  to  the  public 
service.  .  .  .  And  we  have  not  forgotten  to  provide 
for  our  weary  spirits  many  relaxations  from  toil;  we 
have  regular  games  and  sacrifices  throughout  the  year; 
at  home  the  style  of  our  living  is  refined;  and  the  de- 
light which  we  daily  feel  in  all  these  things  helps  to 
banish  melancholy.  .  .  .  And  in  the  matter  of  edu- 
cation, whereas  they  [the  Spartans]  from  early  youth 
are  always  undergoing  laborious  exercises  which  are 
to  make  them  brave,  we  live  at  ease,  and  yet  are  equally 
ready  to  face  the  perils  which  they  face.  ...  If  then 
we  prefer  to  meet  danger  with  a  light  heart  but  with- 
out laborious  training,  and  with  a  courage  which  is 
gained  by  habit  and  not  enforced  by  law,  are  we  not 
greatly  the  gainers?  Since  we  do  not  anticipate  the 


iis-1 
m-l 
the/ 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     157 

pain,  although,  when  the  hour  comes,  we  can  be  as 
brave  as  those  who  never  allow  themselves  to  rest; 
and  thus  too  our  city  is  equally  admirable  in  peace  and 
in  war.  For  we  are  lovers  of  the  beautiful,  yet  simple 
in  our  tastes,  and  we  cultivate  the  mind  without  loss 
of  manliness.9 

The  political  disorders  of  later  Athenian  his- 
tory illustrate  the  difficulty  of  reconciling 
dividualism  with  order  and  stability.  But  at 
same  time  they  prove  that  tne  task  is  a  necessary 
one,  and  that  until  it  has  been  successfully  per- 
formed, government  can  enjoy  at  best  only  a 
false  security.  For  no  interests  can  safely  be 
neglected,  least  of  all  thos^~wKicrFaTise-froni  the 
natural  activities  of  men  and  lie  in  the  direction 
of  the  normal  growth  of  human  capacities. 

Now  these  ancient  polities  illustrate  the  inevi- 
table  pressure  in  the  direction  of  liberal  govern- 
merit,  <^f  he  original  and  always  the^fundamental  I 
values  01  government  are  order  and  powerty'But  I 
these  must  be  obtained  with  the  minimum  of  per- 
sonal  exploitatior^nJhe_^arLjQ£_the  ruler  ;"*the 
function  of  government  must  be  clearly  under- 
stood andvigilantly  guarded  by  a  body  of  citizens 
who  identify  Their  interests  with  it^bjAnd  secondly, 
order  and  power  must  beTmade  compatible  witA 
individual  initiative,  with  playfulness  and  leisure, 
and'*witH  the  freeTdevelopment  of  all  worthy  in- 
terests.   This  pressure  has  been  steadily  operative 
in  the  evolution  of  modern  political  institutions. 


158          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

r  \ 

te?         But  there  has  also  been  another  force  at  work 

of  equally  far-reaching  importascel  This  force 
is  the  modern  idea  of  democracy,  in  which  justice 
is  modiile  (Tby  goodly  ill.  With  the  ancients  justice 
[meant  "that  every  man  should  practise  one  thing 
mly,  that  being  the  thing  to  which  his  nature  was 
most  perfectly  adapted."10  Equality  upon  the 
highest  plane  of  human  capacity  was  limited  even 
in  theory  to  a  privileged  class.  But  since  the  advent 
of  Christianity  it  has  never  been  possible  for  Euro- 
pean society  to  acquiesce  with  good  conscience 
in  a  limited  distribution  of  the  benefits  of  civiliza- 
tion. For  the  new  enlightenment  teaches  that 
when  men's  potentialities  are  considered,  rather 
than  their  present  condition,  there  are  no  classes. 
As  a  consequence  men  demand  representation  not 
for  what  they  are,  but  for  what  they  may  become 
if  grvefT  their  just  opportunity.  The  body  of 
citizens  whose  good  is  the  final  end  of  government 
virtually  includes,  then,  all  men  without  exception. 
It  is  no  longer  possible  simply  to  dismiss  large 
groups  of  human  beings  from  consideration  on 
grounds  of  what  is  held  to  be  their  unfitness.  For 
they  now  demand  that  they  be  made  fit.  Burke 
expresses  this  enlightenment  when  he  says,  in 
speaking  of  the  lower  strata  of  society: 

As  the  blindness  of  mankind  has  caused  their 
slavery,  in  return  their  state  of  slavery  is  made  a 
pretence  of  keeping  them  in  a  state  of  blindness;  for 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     159 

the  politician  will  tell  you  gravely,  that  their  life  of 
servitude  disqualifies  the  greater  part  of  the  race  of 
man  for  a  search  of  truth,  and  supplies  them  with  no 
other  than  mean  and  insufficient  ideas.  This  is  but 
too  true;  and  this  is  one  of  the  reasons  for  which  I 
blame  ^i^h  institutions.11 

And  so  does  every  man  now  demand  of  the  com- 
munity as  ajwhole  that  tie^  shall  be  permitted 
to  share  equaUyJri.its  benefits,  and  also,  in  order 
that  his  claims  may  be  represented,  that  he  shall 
have  a  voice  in  its  councils.     Do  not  misunder- 
stand me.    I  do  not  mean  i;hat  all  men,  therefore,     / 
must  here  and  now  be  held  to  be  equal;  but  only/ 
that  they  must  be  held  to  be  capable  of  being  as 
good  as  the  best  until  they  have  demonstrated^ 
the  contrary  by  forfeiting  their  opportunity.   Nor 
do  I  mean  that  all  men  must  therefore  be  given 
the  ballot.    We  are  discussing  a  question  not  of 
instrument,  but  oLprinciple.    I  do  mean  that  there 
is  jin  idea  thauine  besTo!  life  is  for  all;  and  that  if 
there  are  many  that  are  incapable  of  entering  into 
it,  then  they  must  be  helped  to  be  capable.     And 
I  mean,  furthermore,  that  this  idea  works  irre- 
sistibly.   It  commands  the  support  of  the  whole   / 
army  ol-fflterests.    It  will  never  be  abandoned 
because  it  makes  for  the  increase  of  life  on  the 
whole;  and  hence  no  social  order  will  from  hence- 
forth be  stable  that  is  not  based  upon  it. 
/   This  idea  that  all  men  alike  shall  be  the  bene- 
ficiaries   of   governmentT^when   taken   together 


160          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

with  the  ancient  ideas  that  government  shall  be 
directly  ^es^njiWe_lo_its_henenciaries,  and  shall 
make  as  lIBefaTan  allowance  as  possible  for  their 
individual  claims  and  opinions,  constitutes  the 
general  principle  upon  which  the  progressive 
modern  state  is  founded.  Let  me  brieHy  re- 
capitulate  certain  characteristics  of  the  modern 
state "  which  indicate  its  recognition  of  this 
principle,  and  hence  its  advance  on  the  whole 
over  earlier  types. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  the  modern  state  is  es- 
l^jf^    sentially  a  territorial  rather  than  a  racial  or  pro- 
fe*<k'*ij  prietary  unit,    'in  other  words,  it  is  clearly  de- 

/  %  ffr^ined  as  a  necessity  and  utility  arising  out  of  the 
circumstance^  of  propinquity.  If  men  are  to  cast 
in  their  lot  together  they  must  submit  to  organ- 
ization, and  obey  laws  promulgated  in  the  inter- 
est of  the  community  as  a  whole.  To-day  men 
understand  that  if  they  had  no  government  it 
would  be  necessary  to  invent  one;  that  the  ex- 
isting government,  whatever  divinity  doth  hedge 
it,  is  thus  virtually  the  instrument  of  their  needs. 

2.  Secondly,   this  moral^  function  of  govern- 
ment  is  emphasized  through  being^  largely  freed 
from  personal  or  dynastic  connections  and  ex- 
pressed as  a  constitutional  office. 

3.  Thirdly,  the   requirements    of   justice  and 
good-will  are  reconciled  with  ofdeT  through  the 
principle  of  representation.    WithouTmis  prin- 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     161 

ciple  it  would  be  impossible  for  societies  large 
enough  to  afford  men  protection,  to  admit  all 
men  to  a  share  in  their  positive  benefits  and  to  a 
voice  in  their  councils.  Representative  govern- 
ment is  a  method  of  political  procedure  through 
which  authority  is  made  answerable  in  the  long 
run  -to-  all  interests  witmnriS^SfSTiiction.  The 
more  recent  tendencies  in  democratic  communi- 
ties to  modify  the  representative  system  indicate 
the  direction  in  which  the  pressure  of  interests  is 
still  urging  society  forward.  It  is  no  longer  a 
question  merely  of  the  extension  of  the  suffrage, 
but  of  directness  and  publicity.  The  procedure 
of  government  being  recognized  as  of  vital  im- 
portance to  all  citizens,  it  must  be  straightfor- 
ward and  businesslike,  with  its  books  constantly 
open  to  inspection.  The  present  distrust  in 
elected  representatives  is  not  a  sign  of  reaction, 
but  of  the  evolution  of  the  democratic  intelligence. 
Where  the  machinery  of  representation  becomes 
wasteful  and  clumsy,  it  ceases  to  serve  the  com- 
munity. But  this  may  mean  either  direct  legis- 
lation, that  is,  a  direct  participation  in  public 
affairs  by  the  people  at  large,  or  the  intrusting 
of  these  affairs  to  a  few  conspicuouslyrespohslble 
agents  selected  for  their  businesslike  competence 
and  owing  their  tenure  of  office  to  the  consent  of 
their  constituency.  These  methods  are  entirely 
consistent  with  one  another;  and  they  owe  their 


162          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

adoption  entirely  to  their  better  execution  of  the 
intent  of  democracy.  Both  presuppose  that 
political  authority  is  empowered  by  all  the  in- 
terests of  the  community  to  serve  them,  and  that 
these  interests  shall  in  the  end  decide  whether  or 
not  that  service  is  adequately  performed. 

4.  Fourthly,  the  modern  state  lays  a  constantly 
greater  stress  on  questions  of  internal  policy,  thus 

.7  •Y?  emphasizing  its  basal  function  of  conserving  and 
fostering  the  Jntetests  directly  committed  to  its 
charge.  It  is  less  occupied  with  war,  and  more 
occupied  with  education,  sanitation,  the  conserva- 
tion of  national  resources,  and  the  regulation  of 
commerce  and  industry. 

5.  Fifthly,  the  sequel  to  this  is  the  growjng 
recognition  of  the  folly- an d. jsastef ulness  of  war. 
War  is  becoming  a  last  resort,  a  hard  necessity, 
rather  than  an  opportunity  of   national  glory. 
The  growth  of  the  idea  of  international  peace, 
and  the  improvement  and  extension  of  the  method 
of  arbitration,  are  evidence  of  a  yielding  to  the 
weight  of  the  collective  interests  of  humanity. 
They  prove  the  priority  of  the  principle  of  con- 
struction over  that  of  destruction,  and  the  essen- 
tially thrifty  and  provident  function  of  the  state. 

\The  present  form  of  progressive  political  insti- 
utions  will  serve  as  an  index  of  the  times  and  a 
pledge  of  thcTTuture.    It  reflects^  better  than  any 
other  element  of  civilization  that  growth  ot  liB'er- 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     163 

ality  and  solidifying  of  interests  which  is  the  deep 
current  of  progress.  Human  society  is  becoming 
one  enterprise,  provident  of  all  existing  interests 
and  covetous  of  the  best.  Now  I  know  that  this 
is  to  many  but  a  dreary  spectacle.  There  are 
those  who  feel  diminished  by  it,  overwhelmed 
by  numbers,  and  degraded  to  the  low  level  of 
average  capacity  and  average  attainment.  There- 
fore I  wish  in  conclusion  Jo  deal  further  with  this 
spirit  of  the  age,  to  guard  it  against  misunder- 
standing, and  make  its  fine  quality  more  apparent. 


It  is  charged  that  modern  democracy  is  con-  -  ,  - 
trary  to  enlightenment  through  subordinating  * 
the  strong  man  to  the  multitude  of  weak  men,  or 
the  wise  man  to  the  multitude  of  ignorant  men. 
But  the  modern  idea  of  justice  is  based  funda-  / 
mentally  neither  on  the  mere  sentiment  of  pity 
nor  on  fear  of  the  mob,  ^ut  on  love  of  truth,  and 
respect  for  all  organs  that  Inediate  it.  Society 
cannot  afford  forcibly  to  repress  the  judgment  of 
any  individual  or  class,  lest  her  deeds  be  deeds  of 
darkness.  The  task  of  good  living  is  a  task  of 
well-nigh  overwhelming  difficulty,  because  it  re- 
quires that  no  interest  shall  be  ignored,  and  yet 
that  all  interests  shall  be  in  unison.  Interests 
left  out  of  the  account  will  inevitably  assert  them- 
selves, and  through  their  steady  pressure  or  vio- 


164          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

lent  impact  destroy  the  organization  which  has 
excluded  them.  Hence  the  need  of  an  order  that 
shall  provide  for  its  "own  gradual  correction; 
stable  enough  for  security,  and  pliant  enough  to 
yield  without  shock  to  the  claims  of  neglected 
or  abused  interests. 

This  need  underlies  the  modern  sentiment  of 
tolerance,  and  the  love  of  all  theTibertiesTBat  give 
a  hearing  to  any  sincere  demand:  freedom  of 
speech  and  press,  the  wide  distribution  of  the 
franchise,  and  of  opportunity  for  power.  Con- 
trary to  a  theory  that  philosophers  have  done 
much  to  support,  democracy  is  not  a  method  of 
confounding^  intelligence  with  the  clamor  of  many 
voices,  but  a  method  of  correcting  the  single  in- 
telligence by  the  report  of  whatever  other  in- 
telligence may  be  most  advantageously  related 
to  the  matter  at  issue.  Human  intelligence  must 
operate  from  a  centre,  and  must  always  overcome 
an  initial  bias  due  to  familiarity  and  proximity. 
The  consensus  of  opinion,  or  public  opinion,  is  not 
essentially  a  composite  opinion,  but  a  corrected 
opinion  in  which  such  accidents  of  locality  can- 
cel one  another.  The  following  justification  of 
democracy,  formulated  by  Matthew  Arnold,  lays 
bare  its  insistent  and  wholly  incontrovertible 
motive: 

If  experience  has  established  any  one  thing  in  this 
world,  it  has  established  this:  that  it  is  well  for  any 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     165 

great  class  or  description  of  men  in  society  to  be  able 
to  say  for  itself  what  it  wants,  and  not  to  have  other 
classes,  the  so-called  educated  and  intelligent  classes, 
acting  for  it  as  its  proctors,  and  supposed  to  under- 
stand its  wants  and  to  provide  for  them.  They  do 
not  really  understand  its  wants,  they  do  not  really 
provide  for  them.  A  class  of  men  may  often  itself 
not  either  fully  understand  its  own  wants  or  ade- 
quately express  them;  but  it  has  a  nearer  interest 
and  a  more  sure  diligence  in  the  matter  than  any  of 
its  proctors,  and  therefore  a  better  chance  of  suc- 
cess.13 

This  conception  of  democracy  has  come  latterly 
to  be  as  fine  a  point  of  honor  as  any  article  in  the 
code  of  chivalry  or  noblesse.  The  arrogance 
that  claims  a  superiority  of  class,  and  the  obse- 
quiousness that  loves  a  lord,  all  this  Nietschean 
"pathos  of  distance,"  whether  felt  from  the  heights 
or  the  depths,  is  sharply  repugnant  to  a  new  gen- 
tility, that  embraces  all  that  have  had  the  joy 
of  promiscuous_-social  intercourse.  From  this 
aristocracy  no  one  is  excluded  that  does  not  ex- 
clude himself  through  servility  or  superciliousness. 
Its  distinction  is  liberality,  that  is,  the  habit  of 
disputing  questions  and  judging  persons  on 
their  merits,  with  due  allowance  for  that  never 
wholly  negligible  possibility  that  the  other  man 
is  right.  Among  those  who  are  united  by  this 
spirit,  there  is  one  joke  that  is  an  unfailing  touch- 
stone and  bond  of  union — the  institution  of  lese- 
majeste.  It  is  a  matter  for  unquenchable  laughter, 


i66          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

that  superiority  should  require  to  be  protected 
against  inferiority  by  the  enforced  signs  of  respect, 
or  by  a  hedge  of  reserve. 

It  is  the  ridiculousness  of  the  haughty  or  the 
prostrate  manner  thaTTis~absolutely  fatal  to  it. 
And--^ts  ridiculousness  appears  at  the  moment 
when  you  let  in  the  light.  Class  elevation  is  pre- 
tence,  jiot  superiority;  complacence,  not  wisdom; 
impudence,  not  power.  But  the  contempt  of  the 
just  man  for  the  unjust  is  edged  with  knowledge. 
It  arises  out  of  a  sense  for  things  as  they  are:  a 
recognition  of  the  breadth  and  intricacy  of  life, 
compared  with  the  pitifully  small  understanding 
of  those  who  propose  to  regulate  it  on  their  own 
authority;  of  the  vivid  reality  and  worth  of  inter- 
ests that  do  not  exist  for  those  whose  claims  are 
absolute,  but  who  are  only  the  hapless  victims 
of  a  narrow  and  warping  tradition. 

Many  think  that  the  modern  democracy  is 
too  easy-going;  too  much  infected  with  charity. 
Now  it  is  quite  true  that  it  means  that  no  inter- 
est whatsoever  shall  be  cut  off  through  being  for- 
gotten or  lightly  estimated.  The  conscience  of 
to-day  expresses  the  persuasion  that  there  is  no 
stable  happiness  in  any  activity  which  entails 
cruelty,  which  has  any  other  motive  than  to  save. 
But  this  is  no  more  than  the  full  meaning  of  the 
Platonic  dictum  that  "the  injuring  of  another 
can  be  in  no  case  just."  14  This  sensitiveness  to 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     167 

life  that  is  remote  or  obscure,  this  feeling  for  the 
whole  wide  manif  old  ~of  interests,  is  not  a  weak- 
ness; it  is  enlightenment,  a  lively  awareness  of 
what  is  really  relevant  to  the  task  of  civilization. 
To  imagine  and  think  life  collectively,  with  all 
its  interests  abreast,  is  only  to  measure  up  roundly 
and  proportionately  to  the  practical  situation  as 
it  actually  is.  Upon  a  mind  thus  alive  to  the 
whole  spectacle  there  at  once  flashes  the  awk- 
wardness here,  the  waste  there,  as  of  an  enterprise 
only  begun.  Let  me  allow  another  to  interpret 
this  latter-day  conscience.  I  quote  from  First  and 
Last  Things,  written  by  Wells: 

I  see  humanity  scattered  over  the  world,  dispersed, 
conflicting,  unawakened.  ...  I  see  human  life  as 
avoidable  waste  and  curable  confusion.  I  see  peas- 
ants living  in  wretched  huts  knee-deep  in  manure, 
mere  parasites  on  their  own  pigs  and  cows;  I  see  shy 
hunters  wandering  in  primeval  forests;  I  see  the 
grimy  millions  who  slave  for  industrial  perfection; 
I  see  some  who  are  extravagant  and  yet  contemp- 
tible creatures  of  luxury  ...  I  see  gamblers,  fools, 
brutes,  toilers,  martyrs.  Their  disorder  of  effort, 
the  spectacle  of  futility,  fills  me  with  a  passionate  de- 
sire to  end  waste,  to  create  order,  to  develop  under- 
standing. ...  All  these  people  reflect  and  are  part 
of  the  waste  and  discontent  of  my  life,  and  this  co- 
ordinating Of  the  species  in  a  common  general  end, 
and  the  effort  of  my  personal  salvation  are  the  social  and 
the  individual  aspect  of  essentially  the  same  desire.15 

But  it  must  not  be  thought  that  this  is  a  matter 
of  mere  creature  comfort,  of  distributing  staple 


i68         THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

benefits  for  which  men  already  have  the  appe- 

.       tite.     For  every  step  in  the  organization  of  life 

^    is  attended  jrith  the  growth  of  new  interests, 

.    and  especially  of  interests  fostered  or  directly 

evoked   by^  principles    that    have   proved    their 

moral  virtue.    Thus  the  forms  of  prudence  and 

justice  are  supported  by  the  immediate  love  of 

these  things.     And  a  growing  rationality  involves 

an  increasing  subtlety  and  delicacy  in  desires, 

the  enrichment  of  life  through  the  multiplication 

of  such  sources  of  satisfaction  as  are  consistent 

with  order  and  liberality.   The  true  democracy  is 

considerate  not  only  of  present  interests,  but  also 

of  the  potentiality  and  promise  of  life. 

Only  when  the  imagination  pictures  life  in 
these  terms  is  it  possible  to  avoid  a  sense  of 
ignominy  and  irresponsibility.  And,  contrary  to 
a  common  misconception,  there  is  no  other  atti- 
tude thflt_ra.n  rprnnrilp.  one  to  the  nnfl.vniHa.h1e 
participation  in  the  common  life  of  all  men. 
Only  when  thus  united  with  one's  fellows  in  a 
spirited  and  ennobling  enterprise^canr  one  en- 
dure their  fellowship.  Comrades  in  arms  are 
not  fastidious.  If  one  confines  one's  self,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  a  cultivation  of  one's  rarity,  or  to 
a  company  of  choice  spirits,  not  only  do  these 
values  themselves  grow  stale  and  vanish  away, 
but  the  remainder  of  mankind  becomes  a  crowd, 
and  civilization  a  tumult.  The  collective  life  of 


MORAL  TEST  OF  PROGRESS     169 

mankind  ceases  to  be  jarring  and  repugnant  only 
at  the  moment  when  one  enters  into  it  and  be- 
comes infused  with  its  morale. 

There  will  be  some  in  whom  this  prospect 
arouses  no  eagerness.  The  wise  men  of  any  day 
are,  of  course,  agreed  among  themselves  that  the 
times  arejDad — that  they  are  likely  "to  be  still 
worse  after  they,  the  remnant,  have  departed. 
But  this  is  an  opinion  which  most  men  acquire 
when  they  attain  to  maturity,  and  happily  the, 
world  has  long  since  seen  that  they  cannot  help 
it,  and  learned  on  that  account  not  to  take  it  to 
heart.  The  part  of  Cassandra  is  always  being 
played  somewhere  by  a  gentleman  of  middle 
age  with  a  ripe  experience  of  life.  But  in  any 
serious  judgment  concerning  progress  this  bias 
of  maturity  must  be  overcome  by  the  use  of  the 
imagination,  by  a  rational  estimate  of  human 
affairs  in  their  broad  sweep,  or,  if  necessary,  by  an 
infusion  of  youthfulness.  We  shall  wait  long  if  we 
wait 

"Till  old  experience  do  attain 
To  something  like  prophetic  strain." 

There  is  a  more  serious  cause  of  hopeless- 
ness, in  the  complexity  of  modern  civilization. 
Its  very  teeming  life,  its  wealth,  its  multiplicity 
of  activities  and  passions,  overwhelm  the  mind 
in  its  moments  of  fatigue  like  a  devouring  chaos. 
One  longs  for  the  day  when  the  house  of  civiliza- 


170          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

tion  shall  be  completed,  so  that  one  may  dwell  in 
it  in  peace. 

We  are,  it  is  true,  in  a  time  when  there  is  still 
rough  work  to  be  done.  But  it  is  not  blind 
work.  NeverTias  society  been  so  clear  as  to  its 
several  special  ends,  never  has  so  little  effort 
been  due  to  chance  or  compulsion.  Nor  is  it  in- 
effective work;  for  man  now  works  with  good 
tools  and  the  help  of  many  hands.  And  there  is 
consolation  in  the  fact  that  the  foundations  of 
civilization  are  laid  wide  and  deep  in  charity  and 
welfare.  There  remains  the  perpetual  task  of 
re-establishing  a  spiritual  order  which  has  been 
strained  and  wracked  by  the  heaving  of  many 
forces.  But  when  the  sanctuaries  and  altars 
are  restored  it  will  prove  to  be  a  new  order, 
richer,  more  liberal,  and  more  complete  than  any 
since  men  began  to  live. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  MORAL  CRITICISM  OF  FINE 
ART 


THERE  are  certain  human  activities  which 
not  only  are  of  special  interest  on  their  own  ac- 
count, but  also  hold  a  position  of  pre-eminence 
in  civilization.  Such  are"  science,  philosophy, 
the  love  of  nature,  politics,  friendly  intercourse, 
and  finejirt.  The  last  of  these  activities  enjoys 
a  peculiar  distinction  because  it  is  monumental. 
It  not  only  calls  into  play  all  of  the  more  refined 
capacities,  but  also  records  itself  in  permanent 
and  worthy  form.  Hence  the  fine  art  of  any 
period  comes  to  be  taken  as  an  index  of  its  re- 
move from  savagery. 

In  submitting  fine  art  to  moral  criticism,  I  shall 
use  it  as  the  best  representative  of  the  whole  class 
of  activities  which  I  have  just  described.  If  we 
have  not  been  wholly  astray  in  our  analysis  of 
the  good,  it  should  appear  that  these  activities 
owe  their  pre-eminence  not  to  their  bare  quality^ 
or  tone,  but  to  their  humanity,  that  is,  to  their 
connection  with  a  harmonious,  jusfrarrd  progres- 
te  of  society! 

171 


\ 


\ 


172          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

It  is  hard  for  a  moralist  to  approach  such  a  sub- 
ject without  timidity,  especially  if  he  is  concerned 
with  his  reputation  for  p.nlightpnrognt. For  there 
are  many  who  think  that  it  is  a  mark  of  intellec- 
tual emancipation  to  abandon  moral  standards 
altogether  when~dealing  ^with  the  fine  arts.  Life 
itself,  they  remind  us,  is  only  the  greatest  of  the 
fine  arts;  and  if  life  can  be  called  beautiful,  the 
last  word  has  been  said.  The  man  of  taste  and 
delicate  sensibility  is  thus  empowered  to  over- 
rule the  moralist,  and  replace  with  his  ideal  of 
grace  and  symmetry  the  harsh  and  clumsy  scruples 
of  conscience.  Now  it  is  doubtless  true  that 
when  life  is  good,  it  is  also  beautiful;  a  life  in 
which  every  "activity  is  true,  in  which  the  medium 
of  opportunity  is  formed  to  accord  with  the  most 
noble  purpose,  may  well  exhibit  a  superlative 
grace  and  symmetry.  But  tqjbe  beautiful,  life 
must  be  good  in  its  own  way ;  and  the  principles 
which  define  that  way  are  the  principles  o£jno- 
rality.  Furthermore,  in  order  that  life  shall  be 
beautiful  it  must  be  made  an  object  of  perception 
or  contemplation;  while,  in  order  to  be  good,  it 
must  be  lived.  And  the  principles  which  define 
the  living  of  life  are  moral. 

The  confusion  of  goodness  with  beauty  is, 
therefore,  doubly  stultifying?  i  On  the  oneTiand, 
it  substitutes  for  the  moral  conception  of  value 
conceptions  that  morally  are  indeterminate.  For 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        173 

grace  and  symmetry  may  be  exhibited  by  life 
on  any  plane  whatsoever,  provided  only  that  it 
acquires  stability.  Indeed,  one  who  aims  above 
all  things  to  make  his  life  beautiful,  ought  con- 
sistently to  abandon  the  moral  effort  to  bring 
life  to  its  maximum  of  fulfilment,  and  cultivate 
perfection  of  form  within  the  sphere  of  least  re- 
sistance. It  is  proverbial  that  many  lower  forms 
of  life  are  more  beautiful  than  man,  but  it  is  not 
always  seen  that  these  are  the  stationary  forms 
of  life,  wholly  lacking  in  that  principle  of  rational 
reconstruction  which  is  the  condition  of  moral 
goodness.  .£, /On  the  other  hand,  the  confusion 
of  goodness  with  beauty  tends  to  substitute  ap- 
preciation  for  action^  and  thus  to  make  of  life  a 
spectacle  rather  than  an  enterprise.  Thus  to 
replace  ethical  with  aesthetic  conceptions  is  to 
take  the  heart  out  of  morality.  Beauty  is  pre-l 
cisely  as  relevant  to  moral  goodness  as  it  is  to] 
truth;  and  if  investigators  were  taught  to  devise/ 
the  prettiest  theory  imaginable,  the  result  would 
be  no  more  fatal  to  knowledge  than  is  aesthetic 
sentimentalism  to  life.  To  think  conformably  with 
reality  is  knowledge,  and  to  act  conformably  with 
all  interests  is  life.  If  beauty  is  to  be  added  unto 
truth  and  goodness,  it  must  come  as  the  natural 
sequel  to  a  single-minded  fidelity  to  these  motives. 
But  even  if  it  be  true  that  moral  standards  are 
absolutely_jjndependent  of  the  standards  proper 


174          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

to  art,  it  is  not  yet  clear  that  the  moralist  is  justi- 
fied in  regarding  his  standards  as  more  funda- 
mental than  those  of  art? "  He  may  be  politely 
but  positively  informed  that  he  is  not  to  trespass. 
Now  I  feel  that,  after  what  has  preceded,  I  am 
fortified  against  the  charge  of  impertinence.  Art 
is  subject  to  moral  criticism,  because  morality 
is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  law  which 
etermines  the  whole  order  of  interests,  within 
hich  art  and  every  other  good  thing  is  possible. 

will  scarcely  be  denied  that  art  is  an  expres- 
sion of  interest,  that  both  its  creation  and  its  en- 
joyment are  activities,  moods,  or  phases  of  life; 
and  it  follows  that  before  this  specific  interest 
can  be  safely  or  adequately  satisfied,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  fulfil  the  general  conditions  that  underlie 
tthe  satisfaction  of  all  interests.  It  is  as  absurd  to 
jlspeak  of  art  for  art's  sake  as  it  is  to  speak  of 
drinking  for  drinking' s  sake,  if  you  mean  that 
this  interest  is  entitled  to  entirely  free  play.  Art, 
like  all  other  interests,  can  flourish  only  in  a  sound 
and  whole  society,  and  the  law  of  soundness  and 
wholeness  in  life  is  morality. 

The  claim  of  art  to  exemption  from  moral 
criticism  is  commonly  "Hue  to  one  or  both  of  these 
two  forms  of  misapprehension. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  assumed  that  morality, 
too,  is  a  special  interest;  and  that  if  the  artist  or 
connoisseur  lets  the  moralist  alone,  it  is  no  more 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART         175 

than  fair  that  the  moralist  should  let  him  alone. 
But  this  assumption  is  false;  as  false  as  though  the 
athlete  were  to  chafe  at  the  warnings  of  his  med- 
ical adviser  on  the  ground  that  general  health 
was  irrelevant  to  endurance  or  strength  or  agil- 
ity. Now,  doubtless,  an  athlete  may  for  a"vtime 
neglect  his  general  health  with  no  noticeable 
diminution  of  his  skill;  but  that  is  only  because 
he  already  possesses  the  health  to  abuse.  It  still 
remains  true  that  the  principles  of  health  which 
the  trainer  represents  are  the  principles  upon 
which  his  skill  is  fundamentally  based.  Nature 
has  made  him  healthy  according  to  these  princi- 
ples, and  he  simply  does  not  recognize  his  debt 
to  them.  Similarly,  art  may  flourish  in  spite  of 
the  neglect  of  social  and  individual  well-being, 
so  that  the  pleadings  of  the  moral  advocate  seem 
irrelevant;  but  this  is  possible  only  because  the 
social  order  is  already  established,  and  the  per- 
sonality formed,  according  to  the  very  principles 
which  the  moralist  is  announcing.  Art  may 
dissipate  moral  health,  but  it  nevertheless  lives 
only  by  virtue  of  such  a  source  of  supply.  The 
basal  condition  of  art  is  not  the  element  of  social 
evil  or  morbid  temperament  that  may  attract 
attention,  but  the  measure  of  soundness  that 
nevertheless  remains. 

/The  second  misapprehension  that  lends  plausi- 
bility to  the  excuses  of  art  is  the  assumption  that 


176          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

the  moralist  is  proposing  to  substitute  his  canons 
for  those  of  art.  Now  it  is  entirely  true  that  moral 
insight  in  no  way  equips  one  for  connoisseurship. 
There  is  a  special  aptitude  and  training  that 
enables  one  to  discriminate  in  such  matters. 
But  the  moralist  is  judging  art  on  moral  grounds. 
'Hence  he  does  not  say,  "Irsee  that  your  painting 
is  ugly";  but  he  does  say,  "I  see  that  your  paint- 
ing, which  you  esteem  beautiful  (and  I  take  your 
word  for  it),  is  bad."  In  the  same  way  the  moral- 
ist does  not  say  to  the  self-indulgent  man,  "I 
see  that  you  are  not  having  a  good  time"  (the 
self-indulgent  man  is  likely  to  know  better);  but 
he  says,  "I  see  that  it  is  bad  for  you  to  be  hav- 
ing this  particular  kind  of  good  time."  In  other 
words,  for  the  moralist  larger  issues  are  at  stake, 
and  he  is  considering  these  on  the  grounds  proper 
to  them.  He  is  charged  with  denning  and  ap- 
plying the  principles  which  determine  the  good 
of  interests  on  the  whole;  and  while  his  conclu- 
sions can  never  replace  those  of  the  expert  within 
a  special  field,  they  will  always  possess  authority 
to  overrule  them. 

II 

Since  we  are  to  be  occupied  mainly  with  the 
^bearing  of  art  on  morality,  I  wish  so  far  as  possi- 
ble to  avoid  debatable  questions  concerning  the 
origin  and  ulSmate  meaning  of  art.    But  we  can- 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        177 

not  proceed  without  agreeing  on  a  use  of  terms. 
I  shall  attempt,  therefore,  to  give  a  straightfor- 
ward and  empirical  account  of  that  which  comes 
to  be  called  art'  in  the  history  of  civilization.1 

We  have  already  had  occasion  to  observe  that 
from  the  very  beginning  life  adapts  the  environ- 
ment to  its  uses;  that  is,  gives  to  matter  and  to 
mechanical  processes  a  new  form  in  which  these 
fulfil  interest.  Thus  an  area  of  land  deforested 
and  cultivated,  or  two  stones  so  hewn  and  fitted 
as  to  afford  a  grinding  surface,  take  on  the  im- 
print of  the  human  need  for  food.  Now  such 
reorganizations  of  nature  as  the  farm  or  the  mill, 
however  crude  they  may  be,  are  works  of  art  in 
the  broadest  sense.  And  in  this  same  sense  all 
the  tools,  furniture,  and  panoply  of  civilization, 
from  the  most  primitive  to  the  most  highly 
evolved,  whatever  without  exception  owes  its 
form  to  its  fulfilment  of  an  interest,  may  with 
entire  propriety  be  called  art. 

rrn^~gr^aTHajority-of  cases  the  work  of  art 
after  being  made  is  used;  that  is,  it  becomes  an 
instrument  in  the  making  of  something  else. 
Such  art  is  called  useful  or  industrial  art.  But 
it  sometimes  happens  that  "the  work  of  art  is 
valued,  not  as  an  instrument  in  the  ordinary 
practical  sense,  but  simply  as  an  object  to  be  ex- 
perienced. In  the  Scriptural  account  of  creation 
it  is  said  that  "God  saw  everything  that  he  had 


178          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

made,   and,  behold,   it  was  good."    When  the 

products  of  activity  are  thus  found  good  in  the 

'^'*^^eholding_ojjhejna_they_l)ecome  works  oifine  art. 

It  would  be  improper  sharply  to  divorce  these 
two  motives,  or  to  make  one  any  more  original 
than  the  other.  The  interest  jn  the  exercise  of 
the  sensibilities,  or  other  powers  of  apprehension, 
is  doubtless  as  primitive  as  any  of  the  special 
interests  of  the  organism;  and  it  is  improbable 
that  man  ever  made  anything  without  getting 
some  satisfaction  from  looking  at  it  or  handling 
it  or  feeling  it.  Commonly  the  same  object  is 
both  useful  and  beautiful;  as  was  the  case  with 
the  primitive  religious  dance,  which  at  the  same 
time  indulged  a  taste  for  rhythm  and  served  as  a 
means  of  propitiating  the  gods. 

But  Jjie  motive  of  fine  art  becomes  clearer 
when  it  is  purer.  Objects  are  then  made  with 
explicit  reference  to  the  interest  taken_irL  appre- 
hending them.  I  do  not  mean  that  they  cannot 
oh  tEat  account  be  useful,  for  without  doubt 
utility  itself  contributes  to  beauty;  but  only  that 
they  owe  their  form  primarily  to  the  aesthetic 
interest.  The  motive  of  fine  art  in  its  purity 
appears  when  special  materials  are  selected  on 
account  of  their  plasticity  and  their  appeal  to  the 
more  highly  developed  senses.  Fine  arts  that 
employ  one  medium  are  now  separated  and  per- 
fected through  the  cultivation  of  expert  proficiency. 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART 

Thus  there  arise  such  arts  as  painting  and  music, 
one  of  which  gives  form  to  light  and  appeals  to 
the  eye,  while  the  other  gives  form  to  sound  and 
appeals  to  the  ear.  In  this  way  society  comes  to 
acquire  and  accumulate  objects  which  are  de- 
signed, either  wholly  or  in  part,  with  reference  to 
the  special  aesthetic  interest.  They  are  the  creat- 
ures of  this  interest,  and  their  place  in  life  is 
determined  by  it.  To  understand  their  impor- 
tance and  to  estimate  their  moral  value  it  is  there- 
fore necessary  to  isolate  this  interest  and  examine 
it  with  some  care.a 

By  the  aesthetic  interest  I  mean  to  refer  to  the 
interest  thaTistaken  in  the  work  of  fine  art  by  the 
observer.  There  is  undoubtedly  a  special  jn- 
tereSt  in  "creation,  but  it  is  of  relatively  small  im- 
portance.  Even  the  artist  is  controlled  largely 
by  the  interest  in  observing  his  own  work;  and 
art  is  a  serious  social  concern  only  because  of  its 
appeal  to  the  unlimited  number  of  persons  who 
may  enjoy  it  without  having  any  hand  in  the  mak- 
ing. Now,  in  the  passing  allusion  which  I  have 
made  to  the  aesthetic  interest,  I  have  already  used 
the  term  which  is  most  convenient  for  purposes 
of  general  definition/  ?The  aesthetic  interest  is  the. 
interest  in  apprehension.  What  I  mean  by  this 
will  become  clear  when  I  compare  it  with  two 
other  interests  which  may  also  be  taken  in  the 
content  of  experience.  J^here  is,  in  the  first 


\ 


i8o          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

place,  what  is  called  the  practical  interest,  that 
is,  the  interest  in  an  object  on  account  of  what  can 
be  done  with  it  by  manipulation  or  combination 
with  other  objectsjl'  Secondly,  there  is  the  theo- 
retical interest  in  the  structure  of  reality,  mani- 
festing itself  in  the  exploration  of  the  object  and 
its  context.  Now  the  interest  in  apprehension 
is  not  an  interest  in  what  Qan  be  done  with  the 
object,  nor  in  its  real  structure,  but  in  the  present 
conscious  reaction  to  it?'  One  may  take  all  three 
of  these  interests  in  the  same  object.  Thus  if 
I  pluck  the  flower  and  take  it  home  to  my  wife,  I 
give  evidence  of  a  practical  interest  in  it;  if  I 
kneel  down  and  examine  it  carefully,  I  suggest 
the  botanist;  while  if  I  continue  to  gaze  at  it 
where  it  lies,  it  would  appear  that  I  enjoy  simply 
looking  at  it.  It  is  this  interest  simply  in  looking 
at  things,  in  just  the  perceiving,  feeling,  thinking, 
or  imagining  them,  that  I  mean  to  sum  up  as  the 
interest  in  apprehension,  or  the  aesthetic  interest. 
When  objects  excite  this  interest,  when,  that  is, 
any  state  or  process  of  consciousness  of  which 
they  are  the  content  tends  to  be  prolonged  for 
its  own  sake,  they  are  said  to  be  beautiful.  And 
objects  which  are  deliberately  and  artificially  in- 
vested with  a  peculiar  capacity  to  excite  this  in- 
terest are  works  of  fine  art. 

I  shall  not  undertake  to  explain  the  interest 
in  apprehension  further  than  to  describe  certain 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        181 

typical  forms  which  it  assumes.  These  forms  X 
wiH~5TTve~hbt  only  to  illustrate  its  general  mean- 
ing, but  also  to  amplify  that  meaning  in  a  man- 
ner that  will  prove  important  when  we  come  to 
the  discussion  of  moral  questions.  The  forms 
which  I  shall  mention  are  by  no  means  exhaustive 
of  the  possible  forms  of  the  interest  in  apprehen- 
sion, while  the  order  that  I  shall  follow  is  only 
roughly  the  order  of  increasing  complexity. 
//  There  is,  in  the  first  place,  an  interest  in  sen- 
^Jsation.  I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  assert  tEat 
any  state  of  purely  sensuous  enjoyment  is  possi- 
ble; but  only  that  the  senses  have  a  certain  bias 
of  their  own  which  will  modify  every  state  in 
which  they  are  called  into  play.  There  is  a  de- 
light of  the  eye  and  ear,  a  pleasantness  to  the 
touch,  an  agreeableness  of  taste  and  smell, 
wholly  without  reference  to  anything  beyond. 
The  arts  which  employ  any  of  these  senses  must 
satisfy  their  bias,  however  much  they  may  appeal 
to  higher  faculties;  nothing  which  rankly  offends 
them  can  by  any  possible  means  be  made  beauti- 
ful. Thus  painting  must  be  charming  in  color, 
and  music  in  tone;  and  certain  colors  and  tones 
are  charming  for  no  deeper  reason  than  that 
which  makes  certain  foods  palatable. 
4p)The  interest  in  perception3  assumes  special 
prominence  in  the  great  visual  art  of  painting. 
For  the  process  of  perception  is  most  elaborated 


i82          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

in  connection  with  the  sense  of  vision,  this  being 
peculiarly  the  human  organ  of  watchfulness 
and  orientation.  The  interest  in  perception  is 
the  interest  in  completing  the  sensation  or  round- 
ing it  into  an  object  or  situation  with  the  aid  of 
thought  and  imagination.  In  painting,  as  most 
commonly  in  life,  the  stimulus  is  visual — texture, 
perspective,  or  a  quality  of  light. 
c j  The  emotional  form  of  apprehension  plays  the 
'predominant  part  in  representations  of  human 
action,  in  music,  and  in  the  appreciation  of  nature. 
It  is  in  this  latter  connection  that  we  can,  I  think, 
best  understand  it;  and  I  propose  for  purposes  of 
illustration  to  record  an  experience  of  my  own. 

I  walked  one  night  on  the  deck  of  a  steamer 
plying  between  New  York  and  Bermuda,  and 
gave  myself  up  wholly  to  the  aspect  of  nature. 
The  moon  shone  brightly  half-way  between  the 
horizon  and  zenith,  and  opened  a  path  of  light 
from  where  I  stood  to  the  uttermost  distance. 
With  half-closed  eyes  I  watched  the  hard  lustre 
of  the  waves,  or  turned  from  this  to  the  smooth 
roll  of  the  foam  turned  up  by  the  steamer's  prow. 
And  I  remember  that  I  seemed  to  dwell  upon  these 
things  with  an  instant  relish,  like  that  with  which 
my  lungs  devoured  the  fresh  and  plentiful  air.  But 
when  I  looked  towards  the  moon  along  the  path  of 
light,  there  was  something  that  stirred  me  more 
deeply.  The  prospect  of  an  endless  journey  opened 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        183 

out  before  me,  like  an  invitation  to  live,  or  a  ful- 
ness of  opportunity.  And  I  seemed  to  leap  in  re- 
sponse, rejoicing  in  my  power.  But  I  did  not  act; 
it  was  as  though  I  already  achieved  and  possessed. 
Presently  I  turned  from  the  path  of  light  to  the 
blackness  that  beset  it  on  every  side.  In  this 
blackness  there  seemed  to  lurk  every  kind  of  un- 
known danger;  I  was  moved  with  a  sense  of  help- 
lessness, and  shrank  from  the  thought  of  being 
deserted  there.  And  yet  though  I  was  afraid, 
the  fear  never  seemed  to  possess  me,  but  always 
to  be  possessed  by  me,  as  mine  to  prolong  and 
exult  in  as  I  would. 

Now  I  think  that  the  interpretation  of  my  dream 
is  this.  Deeply  implanted  in  the  organism  are 
certain  co-ordinated  responses  such  as  courage 
and  fear,  or~such  as  love,  hate,  combativeness, 
pity,  and  emulation.  They  may  owe  their  pres- 
ent form  to  habit,  but  they  are  all  rooted  in  in- 
stinct, and  so  call  the  body  into  play  as  a  unit.4 
Primarily  they  are  plans  of  action,  through  which 
the  organism  promptly  deals  with  practical 
emergencies.  But  it  is  possible  for  man  to  de- 
tach himself  from  overt  motor  relations  with  his 
environment;  and  in  this  case  these  responses 
return  as  it  were  into  the  body  and  reverberate 
there,  taking  on  a  purely  emotional  form  which 
may  be  valued  for  itself.  Thus  courage  and  fear 
may  lead  to  no  act  of  bravery  or  caution,  but  re- 


184         THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

main  simply  experiences  of  courage  and  fear,  pro- 
moted and  treasured  by  the  imagination.  Nature 
will  probably  remain  the  object  which  evokes 
these  responses  most  keenly,  because  nature  is 
the  hereditary  environment  towards  which  they 
were  originally  directed.  But  human  action  is 
scarcely  less  moving.  Hence  dramatic  art,  or 
the  representation  of  social  and  moral  confronta- 
tions, will  both  arouse  and  prolong  the  old  pas- 
sions,  thus  evoking  a  deeper  and  more  massive 
response  than  trie  play  of  the  senses. 
»  iTully  rec6gnize  tffat  the  value  of  dramatic 
art  i^by  no  means  limited  to  its'Tmotional  ap- 
peal. I  contend  only  that  it  does  make  such  an 
appeal,  and  that  it  owes  to  that  appeal,  to  its 
evoking  of  sympathy,  love,  or  hate,  to  its  stirring 
of  incipient  action,  the  peculiar  intensity  and 
reverberance  of  the  enjoyment  which  \t  affords. 
The  same  holds  true,  I  think,  of  poetry  generally, 
where  this  deals  with  life.  The  case  of  music 
is  more  doubtful.  It  is  generally  agreed  that 
the  enjoyment  of  music  has  never  been  adequately 
accounted  for,  albeit  it  is  probably  more  ancient 
than  man.  But  that  music  does  arouse  the  great 
emotions,  and  owe  its  popularity  mainly  to  that 
fact,  can  scarcely  be  questioned.  It  is  only  neces- 
sary to  add  that  over  and  above  this  appeal,  as 
well  as  its  appeal  to  the  ear  and  to  an  intellectual 
apprehension  of  its  technical  forms,  it  seems  to 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        185 

be  capable  of  developing  emotions  of  its  own;  that 
is,  experiences  which  do  not  coincide  with  the  in- 
stinctive emotions,  but  which  have  a  like  massive- 
ness  and  organic  reverberation.  It  may  be,  as 
Walter  Pater  insists,  that  in  this  respect  "  all  art 
constantly  aspires  towards  the  condition  of 
music."5  But  this  does  not  contradict  the  fact 
that  such  arts  are  emotionally  stimulating,  will 
always  stir  men  as  men  are  capable  of  being 
stirred,  and  in  society  at  large  will  make  their 
main  appeal  to  the  fundamental  and  constant  emo- 
tions, cultivating  the  enjoyment  of  love,  fear,  and 
the  other  elemental  passions  for  the  very  poign- 
ancy and  thrill  of  them. 

For  the  intellectual  type  of  apprehension  I 
propose  to  employ  the  term  discernment.  I 
mean  the  apprehension  of  an  idea  when  conveyed 
by  some  sensuous  medium;  the  finding  or  re- 
covery of  some  unity  of  thought  in  a  perceptual 
context.  When  discernment  in  this  sense  is  di- 
rectly agreeable  without  any  ulterior  motive,  it 
is  a  special  case  of  the  aesthetic  interest.  From 
this  interest  the  representative  or  pictorial  ele- 
ment in  art  derives  its  value. 

Let  me  illustrate  my  meaning  by  referring 
to  what  Taine  says  of  Greek  sculpture: 

Here  we  have  the  living  body,  complete  and  with- 
out a  veil,  admired  and  glorified,  standing  on  its 
pedestal  without  scandal  and  exposed  to  all  eyes. 


186          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

What  is  its  purpose,  and  what  idea,  through  sym- 
pathy, is  the  statue  to  convey  to  spectators?  An 
idea  which,  to  us,  is  almost  without  meaning  because 
it  belongs  to  another  age  and  another  epoch  of  the 
human  mind.  The  head  is  without  significance; 
unlike  ours  it  is  not  a  world  of  graduated  conceptions, 
excited  passions,  and  a  medley  of  sentiments;  the 
face  is  not  sunken,  sharp,  and  disturbed;  it  has  not 
many  characteristics,  scarcely  any  expression,  and 
is  generally  in  repose.  .  .  .  The  contemporaries  of 
Pericles  and  Plato  did  not  require  violent  and  sur- 
prising effects  to  stimulate  weary  attention  or  to  irri- 
tate an  uneasy  sensibility.  A  blooming  and  healthy 
body,  capable  of  all  virile  and  gymnastic  actions,  a 
man  or  woman  of  fine  growth  and  noble  race,  a  serene 
form  in  full  light,  a  simple  and  natural  harmony  of 
lines  happily  commingled,  was  the  most  animated 
spectacle  they  could  dwell  on.  They  desired  to 
contemplate  man  proportioned  to  his  organs  and  to 
his  condition  and  endowed  with  every  perfection 
within  these  limits;  they  demanded  nothing  more 
and  nothing  less;  anything  besides  would  have  struck 
them  as  extravagance,  deformity,  or  disease.  Such 
is  the  circle  within  which  the  simplicity  of  their 
culture  kept  them.8 

In  other  words,  Greek  art  expressed  the  rare 
quality  *pf  tjreek  lite;  its%  naturalism,  its,  com- 
pa"ctness,  its  clearness.  Arn!~it  did  so  instinc- 
tively both  to  the  artist  and  the  spectator.  We 
are  not  to  think  that  because,  in  order  to  under- 
stand ancient  art,  it  may  be  necessary  for  us  first 
to  obtain  a  conception  of  life  and  then  to  match 
it  in  art,  this  is  essential  to  its  appreciation.  On 
the  contrary,  the  object  of  art  is  not  beautiful 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART         187 

until  it  flashes  the  idea  upon  us,  communicating 
an  ideal  unity  that  is  not  intellectually  articulate 
at  all.  This  must  always  be  the  effect  upon  con- 
temporaries, in  whom  the  idea  is  so  assimilated 
as  to  be  unconscious.  But  the  idea  is  there  none 
the  less;  and  the  full  beauty  cannot  exist  for  any 
one  who  is  incapable  of  discerning  the  idea,  and 
rejoicing  in  the  apprehension  of  it. 

The  incomparable  excellence  of  Greek  sculp- 
ture is  due  to  a  type  of  genius  in  which  clearness 
of  mind  and  delicacy  of  touch  are  united.  Among 
the  Greeks  the  term  mnnite  was  a  term  of  dis- 
paragement; they  thought  roundly  and  cleanly, 
thus  preferring  ideas  to  vague  surmises.  This 
was  their  first  gift.  And,  adding  to  it  a  sensi- 
tiveness to  form,  they  were  enabled  to  express 
themselves,  without  redundancy  and  exaggera-  j 
tion,  bringing  whatever  medium  they  employed  * 
into  accord  with  the  idea.  It  is  this  felicity 
and  luminousness  that  gives  to  the  art  of  the 
Greeks  a  peculiar  appeal  to  the  intelligence.  For 
the  minoTaefights  in  definiteness  and  light. 

But  the  Greek  conception  of  life  belongs  to  an 
age  preceding  the  advent  of  what  has  proved  to 
be  the  European  religion.  And  Christianity  has 
so  reconstructed  the  experience  of  the  average 
man  through  its  sensitiveness  to  pain,  and  its  em- 
phasis on  what  is  called  "the  inner  life,"  that  I 
want  further  to  illustrate  the  meaning  of  discern- 


i88          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ment  in  art,  by  referring  to  the  representation  of 
the  spirit  of  the... Renaissance  in  the  painting  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci.  I  quote  the  following  from 
Pater's  description  of  "  La  Gioconda  " : 

The  presence  that  thus  rose  so  strangely  beside  the 
waters,  is  expressive  of  what  in  the  ways  of  a  thousand 
years  men  had  come  to  desire.  Hers  is  the  head  upon 
which  all  "the  ends  of  the  world  are  come,"  and  the 
eyelids  are  a  little  weary.  It  is  a  beauty  wrought  out 
from  within  upon  the  flesh,  the  deposit,  little  cell 
by  cell,  of  strange  thoughts  and  fantastic  reveries  and 
exquisite  passions.  Set  it  for  a  moment  beside  one 
of  those  white  Greek  goddesses  or  beautiful  women 
of  antiquity,  and  how  would  they  be  troubled  by  this 
beauty,  into  which  the  soul  with  all  its  maladies  has 
passed.  All  the  thoughts  and  experience  of  the  world 
have  etched  and  moulded  there,  in  that  which  they 
have  of  power  to  refine  and  make  expressive  the  human 
form,  the  animalism  of  Greece,  the  lust  of  Rome, 
the  reveries  of  the  middle  age  with  its  spiritual  am- 
bition and  imaginative  loves,  the  return  of  the  pagan 
world,  the  sins  of  the  Borgias.  She  is  older  than  the 
rocks  among  which  she  sits;  like  the  vampire,  which 
has  been  dead  many  times,  and  learned  the  secrets  of 
the  grave;  and  has  been  a  diver  in  deep  seas,  and  keeps 
their  fallen  day  about  her;  and  trafficked  for  strange 
webs  with  Eastern  merchants;  and,  as  Leda,  was 
the  mother  of  Helen  of  Troy,  and,  as  Saint  Anne,  the 
mother  of  Mary;  and  all  this  has  been  to  her  but 
as  the  sound  of  lyres  and  flutes,  and  lives  only  in  the 
delicacy  with  which  it  has  moulded  the  changing 
lineaments,  and  tinged  the  eyelids  and  the  hands.7 

The  power  of  Renaissance  painting  is  not  wholly 
a  mafteTTjf  color,  texture,  modelling,  and  com- 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        189 

position;  for  though  it  contains  these  and  many 
sensuous  and  perceptual  values  besides,  it  con- 
veys through  them  with  surpassing  truth  and 
delicacyldeasas  evasive  as  they  arg,  subtle  and 
ptnfpnr>H  TEereis  an  ecstasy  of  mind  in  the 
discernment  of  these  ideas,  and  a  blend  of  emo- 
tion that  follows  in  their  train,  both  of  which  are 
conditioned  by  insight;  that  is,  by  a  process  that 
is  neither  sensuous,  perceptual,  nor  emotional 
merely,  but,  in  an  additional  sense,  intellectual. 

The  interest  in  apprehension  may  thus  be  ex-  / 
hibited  and  satisfied  in  divers  ways,  differing 
according  to  the  special  processes  of  conscious- 
ness which  they  call  into  playT  And  while  it  may 
be  crude  or  cultivated,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  in 
all  of  its  modes  it  is  present  to  some  degree  in 
every  individual  human  life.  The  simple-minded 
person  who  hisses  the  villain  of  the  melodrama, 
and  he  who  takes  pleasure  in  the  inevitableness 
of  the  Greek  tragedy,  are  exhibiting  the  same 
interest  in  the  emotions  evoked  by  the  spectacle 
of  life.  There  is  only  a  difference  of  training! 
and  sophistication  betweenThe  man  who  enjoys 
a  cheap  chromo  for  the  color  or  the  "likeness," 
and  one  who  appreciates  Velasquez's  treatment  of 
light  or  the  characterization  of  Franz  Hals. 

In  the  enjoyment  of  the  highest  forms  of  art  j 
these  various  modes  of  apprehension  will  be  united,  / 
each,  so  contributing  tn  thr  rnTmnrcWtrrTTf  the 


190          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

rest  that  it  is  impossible  sharply  to  divide  them. 
Nor  do  I  venture  any  opinion  as  to  which  of 
these  modes,  if  any,  is  fundamental  in  the  different 
arts  or  in  fine  art  as  a  whole.  It  is  sufficient  for 
our  purposes  to  know  that  art  does  exercise  and 
develop  human  nature  in  all  of  these  ways. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  define  a  pro- 
gramme of  criticism.  Art  thrives  because~iTfui- 
filsJTcomplex  and  inultiform  interest.  It  is  sup- 
ported by  an  interest  which  it  supplies  with  its 
proper  objects.  Hence  it  fallsjvithin  the  circle 
of  life  where  questions  of  prudence,  justice,  and 
good-will  are  paramount.  But,  because  moral 

nsiderations  must  thus  in  the  nature  of  the 
case  taj^eprecedence  over  purely  aesthetic  con- 
siderations, this  proves  nothing  whatsoever  con- 
cerning the  way  in  which  this  precedence  should 
be  established.  It  was  Plato's  belief  that  so- 
ciety should  employ  a  rigorous  censorship,  and 
banish  the  offending  poet: 

We  will  fall  down  and  worship  him  as  a  sweet  and 
holy  and  wonderful  being;  but  we  must  also  inform 
him  that  there  is  no  place  for  such  as  he  is  in  our 
State — the  law  will  not  allow  them.  And  so  when 
we  have  anointed  him  with  myrrh,  and  set  a  garland 
of  wool  upon  his  head,  we  shall  send  him  away  to 
another  city.8 

But  there  is  another  way  of  protecting  society 
from  whatever  may  be  the  evil  effects  oj^art,  and 
that  is  to  educate  the  individual  and  the  com- 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        191 

munity  in  their  use  of  art.  This  would  mean,  in 
place  of  a  regulation  of  the  supply,  _a  regulation 
of  the  demand.  It  would  mean  that  the  aesthetic 
interest  itself,  like  every  other  interest  within  the 
moral  economy,  should  be  so  controlled  as  to  make 
it  as  conducive  as  possible  to  health  and  abun^ 
dance  of  life]  The"  exercise  or  cultivation  of  the~ 
interest  in  art  would  then,  like  the  love  of  nature 
or  of  social  intercourse,  be  unlimited  so  far  as  its 
objects  were  concerned,  but  limited  through  its 
relation  to  other  interests  within  the  individual 
or  community  purpose.  But  with  this  difference 
concerning  the  proper  remedy,  the  present  in- 
quiry will  coincide  in  its  intent  and  presupposi- 
tions with  that  model  of  all  moral  criticisms,  the 
Republic  of  Plato.  What  are  the  possibilities 
for  life  of  this  aesthetic  interest  or  love  of  art? 
How  is  it  liable  to  abuse  or  excess?  What  is  its 
bearing  on  other  interests,  and  how  far  does  it 
tend  to  make  life  gracious  and  happy,  without 
destroying  its  balance  or  compromising  its  truth  ? 
These  are  the  questions  on  which  I  hope  that  I 
may  be  able  to  throw  some  light  by  calling  at- 
tention to  the  following  characteristics  possessed 
by  the  aesthetic  interest  ?  self -sufficiency, ^pervasive- 
ness, vicaripusness,' stimulation  of  actionffixation  of 
ideas ,  and  liberality.9 


i92          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

III 

It  has  long  been  pointed  out  that  the  aesthetic 
interest,  unlike  the  bodily  appetites,  is  self- 
sufficient,  in  that  it  is  capable  of  being^evenly  sus- 
tained. It  depends  on  no  antecedent  craving, 
and  has  no  definite  periodic  limit  of  satiety.  It 
engages  the  Capacities  that  are,  on  the  whole,  the 
most  docile  and  the  least  liable  to  progressive 
fatigue,  while  through  its  own  internal  variety 
it  is  guarded  against  monotony.  Consequently 
the  aesthetic  interest  is  peculiarly  capable  of 
being  continued  and  developed  through  a  life- 
timeTproviding  a  constant ^nd  increasing  source 
of  satisfaction. 

Furthermore,  the  aesthetic  interest  is  resource- 
ful, easily  supplying  itself  with  the  objects  which 
it  uses.  It  follows  that  it  contributes  to  inde- 
pendence, being  like  the  "  speculative  activity "  of 
Aristotle, 10  in  giving  the  individual  a  means  of 
happiness  in  himself  without  the  aid  of  his  fel- 
lows or  the  favor  of  fortune.  Since  the  aesthetic 
interest  is  in  these  ways  self-sufficient,  its  con- 
tinuous return  of  good  being  guaranteed,  it  is 
one  of  the  safest  of  investments. 

But  every_special  interest  is  a  source  of  danger 
n  direct  proportion  to  its  isolation.  Its  very 
self-sufficiency  may  serve  to  promote  a  narrow 
concentration,  a  blindness  to  ulterior  interests 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        193 

and  wider  possibilities.  This  undue  dwelling  on 
the  given  material  of  life  may,  as  we  have  seen 
in  an  earlier  chapter,  attach  to  any  interest;  but 
the  aesthetic  interest  is  peculiarly  liable  to  it. 
This  is  due  to  the  fact  that,  in  so  far  as  an  object 
appeals  to  the  aesthetic  interest,  it  tends  not  to  de- 
velop, but  to  retain  some  fixed  aspect  in  which 
the  apprehension  of  it  is  agreeable.  The  vari- 
ous practical  interests  ramify  indefinitely  through 
the  dynamic  relations  of  objects,  and  through  the 
handling  of  objects  common  to  a  variety  of  inter- 
ests. Once  engaged  in  what  is  called  "active 
life"  one  tends  to  be  drawn  into  the  main  cur- 
rent of  enterprise  and  made  aware  of  the  larger 
issues.  And  the  theoretical  interest  also  tends 
to  lead  beyond  itself;  for  it  prompts  the  mind  to 
examine  the  whole  nature  of  objects,  and  to  ex- 
plore their  context  without  limit  in  the  hope  of 
completer  truth.  But  the  aesthetic  interest  read- 
ily acquires  equilibrium,  and  feels  no  inducement 
to  leave  off  an  activity  which,  though  its  limits  may 
be  narrow,  is  free  and  continuous  within  them. 
Plato  accused  art  of  being  essentially  imitative, 
and  so  of  confirming  the  vulgar  respect  for  the 
surface  aspect  of  things.11  It  is  truer,  I  think,  to 
say  that  the  aesthetic  interest  is  quiescent,  tend- 
ing to  perpetuate  experience  in  any  form  that  is 
found  pleasant,  and  without  respect  either  to 
practical  exigencies  or  to  the  order  of  truth. 


194          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

-  Hence  this  interest  on  account  of  its  very  self- 
i  sufficiency  offers  a  passive  resistance  to  the  formal 
principles  of  moral^  organization — to  prudence, 
|  purpose/;justice,  and' good-will. 

IV 

The  aesthetic  interest  is  the  good  genius  of  the 
powers  of  apprehension,  making  them  fruitful 
in  their  own  kind.  Now  the  powers  of  apprehen- 
sion are  engaged  during  all  the  waking  hours, 
and  if  they  can  be  taught  to  mediate  a  good  of 
their  own,  that  good  will  pervade  the  whole  of 
life.  It  is  through  the  cultivation  of  the  aesthetic 
interest  that  there  is  most  hope  of  redeeming 
the  waste  places,  of  giving  to  intervals  and  acci- 
dental juxtapositions  some  graciousness  and 
profit.  With  all  the  world  to  see  and  contem- 
plate, anoTwith  the  eye  affd  mind  wherewith  to 
contemplate  them,  there  is  a  limitless  abundance 
of  good  things  always  and  everywhere  available. 
Let  me  quote  Arthur  Benson's  account  of  this 
discovery: 

The  world  was  full  of  surprises;  trees  drooped 
their  leaves  over  screening  walls,  houses  had  backs 
as  well  as  fronts;  music  was  heard  from  shuttered 
windows,  lights  burned  in  upper  rooms.  There  were 
a  thousand  pretty  secrets  in  the  ways  of  people  to 
each  other.  Then,  too,  there  were  ideas,  as  thick  as 
sparrows  in  an  ivied  wall.  One  had  but  to  clap 
one's  hands  and  cry  out,  and  there  was  a  fluttering 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        195 

of  innumerable  wings;  life  was  as  full  of  bubbles, 
forming,  rising  into  amber  foam,  as  a  glass  of  spark- 
ling wine.12 

To  this  delight  which  the  casual  environment 
affords  a  sensitive  observer,  art  may  add  through 
a  decorous  furnishing  of  city  and  house.  Or 
the  instruments  of  other  interests  may  be  made 
to  give  pleasure  of  themselves,  so  that  there  may 
be  no  long  periods  of  deferred  reward.  Thus 
to  the  hire  of  manual  labor  may  be  added  the 
immediate  compensation  which  comes  from  a 
love  of  the  tools,  or  from  the  satisfaction  taken 
in  the  aspect  of  work  done;  to  physical  exercise 
may  be  added  the  love  of  nature,  to  scholarship 
the  love  of  scientific  form,  and  to  social  inter- 
course the  love  of  personal  beauty  or  of  conver- 
sation. In  these  ways,  and  in  countless  ways 
beside,  the  aesthetic  interest  may  multiply  the 
richness  of  life. 

Society  is,  on  the  whole,  protected  against  the 
danger, of  overemphasis  on  the  aesthetic  interest, 
through  the  habituaTs^feefdination  of  it  in  public 
opinion  to  standards  of  efficiency.  Men  com- 
monly believe,  and  are  justified  in  so  believing, 
that  a  life  delivered  wholly  to  the  aesthetic  inter- 
est is  frivolous;  amusing  itself  with  "bubbles" 
and  "amber  foam,"  while  supported  by  a  com- 
munity in  whose  graver  and  more  urgent  con- 
cerns it  takes  no  part.  Probably  no  one  has 


196          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

done  more  than  Pater  to  persuade  men  of  the 
present  generation  that  it  is  worth  while  to 
"catch  at  any  exquisite  passion,  ...  or  any 
stirring  of  the  senses" ;  and  yet  he  is  not  a  prophet 
in  our  day.  Is  it  possibly  because  in  that  same 
famous  conclusion  to  the  Renaissance  he  said, 
"Not  the  fruit  of  experience,  but  experience 
itself,_js__the_end,"  13  and  thus  exposed  himself 
to  misunderstanding,  if  not  to  refutation,  at  the 
hands  of  any  one  of  average  moral  enlightenment  ? 
The  moral  lesson  is  one  that  none  have  escaped, 
and  that  only  a  few  are  permitted  to  forget. 
This  lesson  has  taught  with  unvarying  reiteration 
that  acts  are  to  be  judged  by  their  consequences; 
that  all  purposes  are  constructive,  and  so  far  as 
wise  fitted  into  the  building  of  civilization;  that 
experience  itself,  in  Pater's  sense,  is  possible 
only  as  a  fruit  of  experience.  A  life  in  which 
the  aesthetic  interest  unduly  dominates,  in  which 
action  is  transmuted  into  pulses  of  sensation, 
and  the  means  of  efficiency  into  the  ends  of  con- 
templation, is  an  idle  life,  protected  from  the 
consequences  of  its  own  impotency  only  by  the 
constructive  labor  of  others.  He  who  from  pro- 
longed gazing  at  the  spoon  forgets  to  carry  it  to 
his  mouth,  must  die  of  hunger  and  cease  from 
gazing  altogether,  or  be  fed  by  his  friends.  The 
instruments  of  achievement  may  be  adorned,  and 
made  delightful  in  the  using,  but  they  must  not 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        197 

on  that  account  be  mistaken  for  the  achievement; 
leisure  may  be  made  a  worthy  pastime  through 
the  cultivation  of  the  sensibilities,  but  it  must 
notjhe^substituted  for  vocation,  or  allowed  to  in- 
fecfarsenous 


r 


V 


It  has  always  been  recognized  that  there  is  a 
peculiar  massiveness  or  depth  in  aesthetic  satis- 
faction, as  though  it  somehow  carried  with  it  the 
satisfaction  of  all  interests.  And  this  is  not  due 
merely  to  the  fact  that  other  interests  tend  to 
fall  away  or  remit  their  claims;  it  is  due  besides 
to  the  fact  that  other  interests  may  in  a  sense 
actually  be  fulfilled  in  the  aesthetic  interest.  In  j 
other  words,  this  interest  serves  a  vicarious  func- 
tion, transmuting^other  interests  into  its  own  form, 
and  then  affording  them  a  fulfilment  which  they 
are  incapable  of  attaining  when  exercised  in  their 
own  right. 

This  occurs  when  other  interests,  such  as  love  or 
personal  ambition,  are  imagined  or  represented, 
and  thus  made  objects  of  agreeable  apprehension. 
There  is  in  this  a  compensation  for  failure,  without 
which  life  would  be  stripped  of  one  of  its  main  bar- 
riers against  despair.  Those  whom  circumstance 
has  provided  no  opportunity  for  the  fulfilment  of 
interests  so  ingenerate  as  maternal  love  or  heroic 
action,  may,  in  a  way,  make  themselves  whole 


198          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

through  the  contemplation  of  these  things;  for 
the  contemplation  of  them  engages  the  same  in- 
stincts, arouses  the  same  emotions,  but  without 
requiring  the  existence  of  their  objects.  The 
prolongation  of  arduous  and  uncertain  effort  is 
compensated  through  the  imaginative  anticipa- 
tion of  success,  or  through  the  apprehension  of 
some  symbol  of  perfect  fruition.  It  is  through 
this  happy  illumination  of  struggle  with  a  vision 
of  fulfilment,  that  mankind  is  reconciled  to  such 
tasks  as  civilization  and  spiritual  wholeness; 
tasks  in  which  great  efforts  produce  small  re- 
sults, and  of  which  the  end  is  not  seen. 

Now  it  remains  true,  of  course,  that_such  vi- 
carious fulfilment  is  not  real  fulfilment^  and  to 
suppose  it  to  be,  is  one  of  the  most  serious  errors 
for  which  the  aesthetic  interest  is  responsible. 
The  man  who,  with  clenched  hands  and  quickened 
pulse,  is  watching  some  image  of  himself  as  it 
triumphs  over  obstacles  and  arrives  at  the  sum- 
mit of  his  ambition,  may  and  doubtless  does  feel 
like  Alexander,  but  he  nevertheless  has  not  con- 
quered the  world;  and  if  he  thinks  he  has,  he 
will  probably  never  conquer  any  of  it.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  the  vicarious  aesthetic  ful- 
filment of  interests  is  the  easiest  fulfilment  of 
them;  and  that  it  may,  therefore,  become  a  form 
of  self-indulgence  and  a  source  of  false  com- 
placency. A  sanguine  imagination  is  one  of  the 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        199 

chief  causes  of  worldly  failure;  an  exaggerated 
interest  in  representations  of  virtue  is  a  com- 
mon cause  of  irresponsibility  and  of  hypocrisy. 
William  James,  in  a  passage  that  is  frequently 
quoted,  calls  attention  also  tp_jhe  danger  of  ac- 
quiring a  chronic  emotionality. 


The  weeping  of  a  Russian  lady  over  the  fictitious 
personages  in  the  play,  while  her  coachman  is  freezing 
to  death  on  his  seat  outside,  is  the  sort  of  thing  that 
everywhere  happens  on  a  less  glaring  scale.  Even 
the  habit  of  excessive  indulgence  in  music,  for  those 
who  are  neither  performers  themselves  nor  musically 
gifted  enough  to  take  it  in  a  purely  intellectual  way, 
has  probably  a  relaxing  effect  upon  the  character. 
One  becomes  filled  with  emotions  which  habitually 
pass  without  prompting  to  any  deed,  and  so  the  in- 
ertly sentimental  condition  is  kept  up.  The  remedy 
would  be,  never  to  suffer  one's  self  to  have  an  emotion 
at  a  concert,  without  expressing  it  afterwards  in  some 
active  way.  Let  the  expression  be  the  least  thing  in 
the  world — speaking  genially  to  one's  aunt,  or  giving 
up  one's  seat  in  a  horse-car,  if  nothing  more  heroic 
offers — but  let  it  not  fail  to  take  place.14 

But  not  only  is  it  possible  through  the  exag- . 
geration  of  the  aesthetic  interest  to  substitute  ap-  1 
parent  achievement  for  real  achleyiementT  it  is  I 
possible  to  extract  solace  from  the  contemplation 
of  failure  itself.    Is  there  any  one  who  has  not 
met  the  man  who  is  actually  made  buoyant  by 
his  consistent  misfortune?     For  it  is  flattering 
that  an  evil  fate  should  single  one  out   from 
the  crowd  for  conspicuous  attention,  that  all  the 


200          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

tragedy  of  existence  should  centre  upon  one's 
devoted  head.  And  a  certain  interest  attaches 
even  to  unredeemed  misery  and  abject  futility 
on  their  own  account,  if  only  they  can  be  viewed 
from  the  right  angle,  and  with  a  cultivated  sense 
for  such  things.  Now  thus  to  poetize  the  tragedy 
of  one's  own  life  is  fatuous;  it  is  like  enjoying 
one's  dizziness  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  or 
the  pangs  of  sickness  without  seeking  a  remedy. 
But  to  poetize  the  tragedy  of  others,  to  fiddle 
while  Rome  is  burning,  is  brutal.  Neverthe- 
less, though  it  is  not  commonly  possible  to  do 
things  on  Nero's  scale,  precisely  the  same  atti- 
tude is  the  commonest  thing  in  the  world,  and  is 
fostered  by  the  whole  aesthetic  bias  of  the  race. 
The  meanness  of  savage  life,  the  squalid  poverty 
of  the  slums,  suffice  in  their  picturesqueness  to 
make  a  holiday  for  those  who  are  more  occupied 
with  images  than  with  deeds.  And  there  is 
actually  a  philosophy  of  life  in  which  all  things 
are  held  to  be  good  because  they  afford  a  tragic, 
sublime,  and,  therefore,  pleasing  spectacle.  This 
is  the  very  extreme  of  moral  infidelity,  the  aban- 
donment of  the  will  lo  make  good  for  the  insidi- 
ous and  relaxing  interest  in  making  things  seem 
good  as  they  are. 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        201 

VI 

That  a  beautiful  object  commonly  stimulates 
a  motor  response  is  beyond  question.  Even 
when  it  does  not  appeal  to  any  definite  emotion 
it  is  generally  stimulating,  through  its  affording  to 
the  natural  powers  at  some  point  an  unusual  har- 
mony with  their  environment.  And  when  there  is 
a  definite  emotional  appeal,  there  is  a  tendency 
to  act.  For,  as  we  have  seen,  originally  the  funda- 
mental emotions  were  all  co-ordinated  reactions 
to  the  environment,  enlisting  the  whole  organism 
to  cope  with  some  practical  emergency."  That 
the  emotions  shoukl  become  mere  emotions  is  due 
to  the  modification  of  instinct  by  habit.  What- 
ever, then,  arouses  the  emotions  does  in  some 
degree  stir  to  action.  So  that  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant moral  uses  of  art  is  its  alliance  with  other 
interests  in  order  to  intensify  their  appeal,  in  order 
to  make  them  more  instantly  moving.  Art  is  a 
means  of  enlivening  dormant  impulses;  as  music 
is  a  means  of  Rekindling  the  love  of  country  or 
the  love  of  God,  so  that  men  may  be  brought  to 
take  up  arms  with  enthusiasm  or  endure  reverses 
without  complaint. 

But  this  motor  excitement  which  art  stimu- 
lates may  be  morally  indeterminate;  that  is,  it 
may  be  capable  of  being  discharged  in  any  way 
that  accident  or  bias  may  select.  In  other  words, 


202          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

art  may  communicate  power  without  controlling 
its  use,  thus  merely  increasing  the  disorder  and 
instability  of  life.  Or  it  may  serve  to  exaggerate 
the  appeal  of  the  present  interest,  until  it  be- 
comes ungovernable  and  obscures  ulterior  in- 
terests. This  tendency  to  promote_jjis5o]vitnipss 
is  the  most  serious  charge  which  Plato  brings 
against  the  arts.  After  referring  to  the  unseemly 
hilarity  to  which  men  are  incited  by  the  comic 
stage,  he  adds: 

And  the  same  may  be  said  of  lust  and  anger  and 
all  the  other  affections,  of  desire  and  pain  and  pleas- 
ure which  are  held  to  be  inseparable  from  every 
action — in  all  of  them  poetry  feeds  and  waters  the 
passions  instead  of  drying  them  up;  she  lets  them 
rule  instead  of  ruling  them  as  they  ought  to  be  ruled, 
with  a  view  to  the  happiness  and  virtue  of  mankind.16 

In  an  earlier  passage  Plato  discusses  types  of 
music  in  relation  to  action,  the  Lydian  which  is 
sorrowful,  and  the  Ionian  which  is  indolent; 
showing  that  selection  must  be  made  if  "men  are 
not  to  be  at  the  mercy  of  random  influences.  It 
is  not  necessary,  as  Plato  would  have  it,  to  banish 
Lydian  and  Ionian  harmonies  from  society;  but 
within  one's  personal  economy,  within  the  re- 
public of  one's  own  soul,  one  must  prefer  with 
Plato  those  stirrings  of  the  emotions  which  sup- 
port and  re-enforce  one's  moral  purposes 

Of  the  harmonies  I  know  nothing,  but  I  want  to 
have  one  warlike,  which  will  sound  the  word  or  note 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        203 

which  a  brave  man  utters  in  the  hour  of  danger  and 
stern  resolve,  or  when  his  cause  is  failing,  and  he  is 
going  to  wounds  or  death  or  is  overtaken  by  some 
other  evil,  and  at  every  such  crisis  meets  fortune  with 
calmness  and  endurance;  and  another  to  be  used 
by  him  in  times  of  peace  and  freedom  of  action,  when 
there  is  no  pressure  of  necessity,  and  he  is  seeking  to 
persuade  God  by  prayer,  or  man  by  instruction  and  * 
advice.  .  .  .  These  two  harmonies  I  ask  you  to 
leave :  the  strait)  of  r>frp<;<;ity.ar>H  the  strain  of  -freedom^ 
the  strain  of  the  unfortunate  and  the  strain  of  the 
fortunate,  the  strain  of  courage  and  the  strain  of 
temperance;  these,  I  say,  leave.19 


VII 

Where  art  is  not  employed  directly  to  incite 
action,  it  may  still  be  indirectly  conducive  to 
faction  through  fixmg~  ideas  and  inclining  the 
sentiments  towards  them.  This  is  probably  its 
most  important  moral  function.  The  ideas  wffich 
are  of  the  greatest  significance  for  conduct  are 
ideas  which  receive  no  adequate  embodiment  in 
the  objects  of  nature.  Every  broad  purpose  and 
developed  ideal  requires  the  exercise  of  the  con- 
structive imagination.  But  the  immediate  images 
of  the  imagination  are  fluctuating  and  transient, 
and  need  to  be  supported  through  being  em- 
bodied in  some  enduring  medium.  Thus  monu- 
ments^ serve  as  emblems  of  nationality;  or,  as  in 
the  thirteenth  century, ~all~t5e  arts  may  unite  to 
represent  and  suggest  the  objects  of  religious 


204          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

faith.  Poetry  and  song  have  always  served  as 
means  of  incarnating  the  more  delicate  shadings 
of  a  racial  ideal;  and  every  man  would  be  a  poet 
if  he  could,  and  trace  the  outline  of  that  hope 
which  stirs  him  and  which  is  not  the  hope  of  any 
other  man. 

But  it  must  be  made  clear  that  art  does  more 
than^make  ideas  definite— aud~~permanent.  It 
inclines  the_sent!inents  towards  them.  The  great 
power  of  art  lies  in  its^FunctioH  of  making  ideas 
alluring.  Now  whatever  is  loved  or  admired  is, 
inllie  long  run,  sought  out,  imitated,  and  served. 
Understanding  this,  the  ancient  Athenians  sought 
to  educate  the  passions,  and  employed  music  to 
that  end.  This  is  Aristotle's  justification  of 
such  a  course: 

Since  then  music  is  a  pleasure,  and  virtue  consists 
in  rejoicing  and  loving  and  hating  aright,  there  is 
clearly  nothing  which  we  are  so  much  concerned  to 
acquire  and  to  cultivate  as  the  power  of  forming  right 
judgments,  and  of  taking  delight  in  good  dispositions 
and  noble  actions.  Rhythm  and  melody  supply  imi- 
tations of  anger  and  gentleness,  and  also  of  courage 
and  temperance  and  of  virtues  and  vices  in  general, 
which  hardly  fall  short  of  the  actual  affections,  as  we 
know  from  our  own  experience,  for  in  listening  to  such 
strains  our  souls  undergo  a  change.  The  habit  of  feel- 
ing pleasure  or  pain  at  merg_  representations  is  not  far 
removed  from  the  same  feeling  about  realities.17 

The  simple  and  incontestable  truth  of  these 
statements  is  a  standing  condemnation  of  the 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        205 

usual  environment  of  youth.  Virtue  consists,  as 
much  as  it  ever  did,  "in  rejoicing  and  loving  and 
hating  aright";  but  the  guidance  of  these  senti- 
ments to  their  prqperpb jects  is  left  almost  wholly  to 
chance.  It  is  by  making  the  p;nod  also  beautiful, 
by  illuminating  the  modes  of  virtue  with  jewels, 
and  endearing  them  to  the  imagination,  that  the 
mo^al  reason  may  be  re-enforced  from  early  days 
by  high  spirits.  It  should  be  a  task  of  education, 
using  this  means  either  in  the  home  or  the  school 
or  the  city  at  large,  to  inculcate  a  right  habit  of 
admiration. 

If  art  is  to  serve  a  moral  end  in  fixing  and  em- 
bellishing ideas^  it  must  be  true.  WEat  I  mean  ^ 
by  this  most  important  qualification  I  must  now 
endeavor  to  make  plain.  Art,  in  so  far  as  it  is 
a  means  of  representation,  deals  either  with 
physical  nature,  as  in  landscape  and  figure  paint- 
ing, or  with  types  and  incidents  of  human  life, 
as  in  dramatic  painting  and  in  the  greater  part 
of  poetry.  In  either  case  it  may,  like  thought, 
either  reflect  or  distort  the  structure  of  reality. 
Now  the  real  structure  of  human  life  is  moral; 
consisting  only  in  a  variety  of  instances  of  the 
one  law  that  the  wages  of  sin  is  death.  To  repre- 
sent life  otherwise  is  to  falsify  it,  precisely  as  to 
represent  bodies  without  solidity  and  gravity  is 
to  falsify  physical  nature.  But  in  representing 
physical  nature  art  does  not,  as  science  does, 


206          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

formulate  merely  its  geometrical  or  dynamical 
skeleton;  to  do  scTwould  be  contrary  to  the  intent 
of  art  to  represent  things  in  their  perceptual  con- 
creteness.  Similarly  art  does  not  represent  ab- 
stract virtues.  Nevertheless,  if  it  is  not  to  depart 
from  the  truth  art  must,  at  the  same  time  that  it 
conveys  the  color  and  vividness  of  life,  also  con- 
form to  its  proper  laws,  and  demonstrate  the  con- 
sequences of  action  as  they  are.  And  the  same 
standard  of  clearness  and  fidelity,  which  requires 
that  great  art  shall  reveal  nature  as  it  is,  not  to 
the  superficial  or  imitative  observer  but  to  the 
thoughtful  and  penetrating  mind,  requires  also 
that  it  shall  throw  into  relief  the  profounder  and 
more  universal  forces  of  life* 

Great  art,  therefore,  is  of  necessity  enlightening. 
But  it  is  possible  that  untruth  should  parade  in 
the  dress  and  under  the  auspices  of  art,  and  so 
work  to  the  confusion  of  the  moral  consciousness. 
If  art  were  only  realistic  in  the  full  sense,  an  un- 
equivocal representation  of  the  laws  of  life,  it 
would  invariably  justify  and  support  the  moral 
will;  it  would  be  idealistic.  It  is  the  art  of  des- 
ultory and  irresponsible  fancy  that  is  a  source  of 
danger.  There  is  a  species  of  romantic  art  that  is 
guarded  by  its  very  excess  of  fantasy;  it  being 
impossible  to  mistake  it  for  a  representation  of 
life.  But  where  romantic  art  is  not  thus  clear  in 
its  motive,  it  becomes  what  is  called  "sensational" 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        207 

art,  in  which  the  wages  of  sin  are  not  paid;  in 
which  imprudence,  infidelity,  and  a  mean  ambition 
are  made  to  yield  success,  freedom,  and  glorious 
achievement.  The  realities  are  violated,  with 
the  consequence  that  resolve  is  weakened  and 
the  intelligence  bewildered. 

Since  art  may  be  true  or  untrue,  it  may  also 
be  universal  or  particular,  profound  or  super-  * 
ficial,  in  itsjipprehension  ot  reality.  This  differ- 
ence has  operated  to  define  a  scale  of  importance 
in  art,  so  far  as  the  interest  of  society  is  concerned. 
There  is  at  least  a  measure  of  truth  in  Taine's 
graduated  scale  by  which  he  estimates  the  great- 
ness of  art  according  as  it  represents  the  fashion 
of  the  day,  the  type  of  the  generation,  the  type 
of  the  age,  the  type  of  the  race,  or  man  him- 
self in  his  immutable  nature.18  That  art  will 
be  the  most  effective  instrument  of  moral  en- 
lightenment which  reflects  the  experience  of  man- 
kind in  the  basal  and  constant  virtues,  giving 
quality  and  distinction  to  truths  which  might 
otherwise  suffer  from  their  very  homeliness  and 
familiarity. 

There  is  a  kindred  consideration  to  which 
Tolstdy,  undiscerning  as  he  is  in  most  of  his 
criticism  of  art,  has  very  justly  called  atten- 
tion. In  the  broad  sense,  art  is  liable  to  un-  / 
truth  Jrom  reflecting  exclusively  the  bias  of  a 
certain  temperament.  TheToIIowing  description 


208          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

of  a  class  of  contemporary  dramas  is  not  wholly 
inapt: 

They  either  represent  an  architect,  who  for  some 
reason  has  not  fulfilled  his  former  high  resolves  and 
in  consequence  of  this  climbs  on  the  roof  of  a  house 
built  by  him  and  from  there  flies  down  headlong; 
or  some  incomprehensible  old  woman,  who  raises 
rats  and  for  some  unknown  reason  takes  a  poetic 
child  to  the  sea  and  there  drowns  it;  or  some  blind 
people,  who,  sitting  at  the  sea-shore,  for  some  reason 
all  the  time  repeat  one  and  the  same  thing;  or  a  bell 
which  flies  into  a  lake  and  there  keeps  ringing.19 

/That  a  tendency  to  cultivate  acquaintance  with 

/the  curious  and  rare,  and  communicate  it  to  a 

/narrow*  groiip^of  initiated  persons,  is  character- 

/  istic  of  modern  times,  and  that  on  the  whole  it 

/  is  a  symptom  of  decadence,  Tolsttjy  has,  IJbelieve, 

!  provecH    At  any  rate,  the  effect  of  such  a  tendency 

t  hTaiTcan  not  fail  to  be  morally  injurious,  since 

life  is  not  represented  proportionately.     Art  has 

much  to  do  with  the  vogue  and  prestige  of  ideas. 

Thus,  for  example,  though  the  problem-play  may 

be  faithful  to  life  where  it  deals  with  life,  if  the  stage 

be  given  over  wholly  to  this  form  of  drama,  there 

will  almost  inevitably  result  a  false  conception  of 

the  degree^to  which  the  incidents   selected  are 

representative  of  social  conditions  on  the  whole. 

There  is  one  further  source  of  moral  error  in 
connection  with  this  function  of  art.  Because 
art  can  not  only  fix  ideas  but  also  make  them  al- 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        209 


luring,  it  ma^jnvest  them  with  a  fictitious 
I  refer  to  whatis  only  a  different  aspect  oFTRat 
sentimentalism  or  chronic  emotionalism  to  which 
I  Gave  already  called  attention.  Not  only  is  it 
possible  that  men  should  be  brought  through 
the  aesthetic  interest  to  replace  action  with  emo- 
tion; they  may  also  persuade  themselves  that  the 
higher  principles  of  life  owe  their  validity  to  some 
quality  that  is  discerned  immediately  in  the  appre- 
hension of  them.  But  purpose,  justice,  and  good- 
will are  essentially  principles  of  organization;  their 
virtue  is  their  provident  working.  To  regard 
them  only  as  images  with  a  value  inhering  in 
their  bare  essence,  is  to  forfeit  their  benefits. 
Verbalism,  formalism,  mysticism,  are  given  a 
certain  false  charm  and  semblance  of  self-suffi- 
ciency by  the  cultivation  and  exercise  of  the 
aesthetic  interest.  Hence  morality  and  religion 
must  here  resist  its  enticements,  and  never  cease 
to  remind  themselves  that  theirs  is  the  task  of 
acknowledging  all  interests  according  to  their 
real  inwardness,  and  of  banishing  cruelty  and 
blindness  in  their  behalf. 

VIII  s  ^ 

f  -*?' 

**    Finally,  art  serves  to  liberalize  life,  to  make  it 

expansive  and.  generous  in^pirE  This  is  possi- 
ble because,  in  the  first  place,  art  is  unworldly. 
I  mean  simply  that  the  enjoyment  of  beauty  is  not 


210          THE  MORAL   ECONOMY 

a  part  of  ambition;  that  it  does  not  call  into  play 
those  habits  of  calculation  and  forms  of  skill  that 
conduce  to  success  in  livelihood  or  the  gaining  of 
any  of  the  proximate  ends  of  organized  social 
life.  It  frees  the  mind  from  its  harness  and  turns 
it  out  to  pasture.  I  suppose  that  every  one  has 
had  that  experience  of  spiritual  refreshment 
which  occasionally  comes  when  one  has  gone 
body  and  soul  out  of  doors,  or  when  one  is  deliv- 
ered over  to  the  enchantment  of  sober  and  ele- 
vating music,  and  suddenly  made  aware  of  the 
better  things  that  have  been  long  forgotten. 
Such  experiences  are  a  moral  inspiration.  It  is 
as  though,  the  clamor  of  the  world  being  for  the 
moment  shut  out,  one  hears  at  last  the  voices  that 
speak  with  authority.  For  an  instant  the  broad 
sweep  of  truth  flashes  upon  eyes  that  have  been 
too  intently  watchful  of  affairs  near  at  hand. 
The  good- will  can  be  sustained  only  by  a  mind 
that  now  and  then  withdraws  itself  from  its  en- 
gagements, and  expands  its  view  to  the  full 
measure  of  life.  For  the  momentary  inhibiting 
of  the  narrower  practical  impulses,  and  the  evok- 
ing of  this  quiet  and  contemplative  mood,  the 
love  of  nature  and  the  love  of  art  are  the  most 
reliable  means. 

But  art  promotes  liberality  of  spirit  in  an  even 
more  definitely__inoral  sense.  For  art,  like  all 
forms  of  culture,  and  like  the  service  of  humanity, 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        211 

provides  for  thejiighest  type  of  social  intercourse. 
The  aesthetic  interest  is  one  of  those  rare  inter- 
ests which  are  common  to  all  men  without  be- 
ing competitive.  All  men  require  bread,  but 
since  this  interest  requires  exclusive  possession 
of  its  objects,  its  very  commonness  is  a  source  of 
suspicion  and  enmity.  Similarly  all  men  re- 
quire truth  and  beauty  and  civilization,  but 
these  objects  are  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  all 
may  rejoice  in  them  without  their  being  divided 
or  becoming  the  property  of  any  man.  They 
bring  men  together  without  rivalry  and  in- 
trigue, in  a  spirit  of  good-fellowship.  "Cul-  i 
ture,"  says  Matthew  Arnold,  "is  not  satisfied 
till  we  all  come  to  a  perfect  man;  it  knows 
that  the""sweetness  and  light  of  the  few  must 
be  imperfect  until  the  raw  and  unkindled  masses 
of  humanity  are  touched  with  sweetness  and 
light." 

'This,'  he  continues,  'is  the  social  idea;  and  the 
men  of  culture  are  the  true  apostles  of  equality. 
The  great  men  of  culture  are  those  who  have  had  a 
passion  for  diffusing,  for  making  prevail,  for  carrying 
from  one  end  of  society  to  the  other,  the  best  knowl- 
edge, the  best  ideas  of  their  time;  who  have  labored 
to  divest  knowledge  of  all  that  was  harsh,  uncouth, 
difficult,  abstract,  professional,  exclusive;  to  human- 
ize it,  to  make  it  efficient  outside  the  clique  of  the 
cultivated  and  learned,  yet  still  remaining  the  best 
knowledge  and  thought  of  the  time,  and  a  true  source, 
therefore,  of  sweetness  and  light.' » 


212          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

Art,  both  in  the  creation  and  in  the  enjoyment 
jsfjt,  is  thus  true  to  the  deepest  motive  oTmoral- 
ity.  It  is  a  remoulding  of  nature  to  the  enoTthat 


IX 

I  have  sought  to  place  before  you  what,  art 
may  contribute  _to  life.  It  will  have  become 
plain  that  while  art  Js_the  natural  and  powerful 
all^  of  morality,  it  does  not  itself  provide  any 

7  ,  ___  guar  antee__oj^roj^r_control  ;  in  the  interests  of 
goodness,  on  the*  wholeTno  ^man  can  surrender 
himself  tojt  ^utterly.  The  good-will  is  not  proved 

V  until,  as  Plato  said,  it  is  tried  with  enchantments, 
and  founoTto  be  strong  and  true.  Goodness  can 
not  be  cast  upon  a  man  like  a  spell;  it  is  a  work 
of  rational  organization,  and  can  not  be  had  with- 
out discipline,  efficiency,  and  service.  But  it  is 
for  art  to  surround  life  with  fit  auspices;  to  create 
an  environment  that  reflects  and  forecasts  its 
best  achievements,  thus  both  making  a  home  for 
it  and  confirming  its  resolves. 

Having  modelled  this  moral  criticism  of  art 
upon  the  method  of  Plato,  I  shall  conclude  with 
his  familiar  summary  of  all  the  wisdom  and  elo- 
quence that  there  is  in  the  matter: 

Let  our  artists  rather  be  those  who  are  gifted  to 
discern  the  true  nature  of  beauty  and  grace;  then  will 
our  youth  dwell  in  the  land  of  health,  amid  fair  sights 


CRITICISM  OF  FINE  ART        213 

and  sounds;  and  beauty,  the  effluence  of  fair  works, 
will  visit  the  eye  and  ear,  like  a  healthful  breeze  from 
a  purer  region,  and  insensibly  draw  the  soul  even  in 
childhood  into  harmony  with  the  beauty  of  reason.21 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MORAL  JUSTIFICATION  OF 
RELIGION 1 


IT  is  generally  agreed  that  religion  is  either  the 
paramountjssue  or  the  most  serious  obstacle  to 
progress.  To  its  devotees  religion  is  of  over- 
whelming importance;  to  unbelievers  it  is,  in 
the  phrasing  of  Burke,  "superstitious  folly,  en- 
thusiastical  nonsense,  and  holy  tyranny."  The 
difference  between  the  friends  and  the  enemies 
of  religion  may,  I  think,  be  resolved  as  follows : 

Religion  recognizes  some  final  arbitration  of 
human  destiny; //it  is  a  lively  awareness  of  the 
fact  that,  while  man  proposes,  it  is  only  within 
certainjiarrow  limits  that  he  can  dispose  his  own 
plans.  His  nicest  adjustments  and  most  ardent 
longings  are  overruled;  he  knows  that  until  he 
can  discount  or  conciliate  that  which  commands 
his  fortunes  his  condition  is  precarious  and  miser- 
able. And  through  his  eagerness  to  save  himself 
he  leaps  to  ^conclusions  that  are  uncritical  and 
premature^  Irreligion,  on  the  other  hand,  flour- 
ishes among  those  who  are  more  snugly  intrenched 
214  — 


^^^^urro 
jjHisi 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   215 

within  the  cities  of  man.  It  is  a  product  of  civil- 
ization. Comfortably  housed  as  he  is,  and  en- 
joying an  artificial  illumination  behind  drawn 
blinds,  the  irreligious  man  has  the  heart  to  criti- 
cise the  hasty  speculations  and  abject  fear  of 
those  who  stand  without  in  the  presence  of  the 

rrounding  darkness.  In  other  words,  religion 
rpetually  on  the  exposed  side  of  civilization, 
itive  to  the  blasts  that  blow  frorrTthe  surround- 
ing universe;  while  irreligion  is  in  the  lee  of  civil- 
ization, with  enougn  remove  from  danger  to 
foster  a  refined  concern  for  logic  and  personal 
liberty.  There  is  a  sense,  then,  in  which  both 
religion  and  irreligion  are  to  be  justified.  If  re- 
ligion  is  guilty  of  unreason,  irreligion  is  guilty  of 
apathy.  For  without  doubt  the  situation  of  the 
individual  man  is  broadly  such  as  religion  con- 
ceives it  to  be.  There  is  nothing  that  he  can 
build,  nor  any  precaution  that  he  can  take,  that 
weighs  appreciably  in  the  balance  against  the 
powers  which  decree  good  and  ill  fortune,  catas- 
trophe and  triumph,  life  and  death.  Hence  to 
be  without  fear  is  the  part  of  folly.  Behold,  the 
fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom. 

Religion  is  man's  recognition  of  the  overruling    , 
control  of  his  fortunes.    It  is  neither  metaphysi-  f 
cal  nor  mythical,  but  urgently  practical     Prime- 
val chaos,  Chronos,  the  father  of  Zeus,  and  the 
long  line  of  speculative  Absolutes  have  no  woj:- 


216          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

shippers  because  they  take  no  hand  in  man's 
affairs.  They  may  be  neglected  with  impunity. 
But  not  so  the  gods  who  send  health  and  sickness, 
fertility  and  death,  victory  and  defeat;  or  He  who 
sits  in  judgment  on  the  last  day  to  determine  the 
doom  of  eternity.  Religion  is  the  manifestation 
of  supreme  concern  for  life,  an  alertness  to 
remotest  threat  of  danger  and  promise  of  ho 
A  certain  momentousness  attaches  to  all  the 
fairs  of  religion,  because  everything  is  at  staked 
Its  dealings  are  with  the  last  court  of  appeal, 
in  behalf  of  the  most  indispensable  good. 

In  form,  religion  is  a  case  of  belief;  that  is,  of 
settled  conviction.  There  is  no  religion  until  some 
interpretation  of  life,  some  accommodation  be- 
tween man  and  God,  has  been  so  far  accepted  as 
to  be  unhesitatingly  practised.  The  absurdity 
of  doubt  in  matters  of  religion  has  been  pointed 
out  in  the  well-known  parody,  "O  God,  if_ there 
be  a  God,  save  my  soul,  if  I  have  a  soul."  ^The 
quality  of  religion  lies  not  in  the  entertaining  of 
a  speculative  hypothesis,  but  in  an  assurance  so 
confident  that  its  object  is  not  only  thought  but 
enacted.  God  is  not  God  until  his  unquestioned 
existence  is  assimilated  to  life.  Indeed,  it  is  con- 
ceivable that  an  object  thus  made  the  basis  of 
action  should  still  remain  theoretically  doubtful. 
To  Fontenelle  is  attributed  the  remark  that  he 
"did  not  believe  in  ghosts,  but  was  afraid  of 


the^^ 

s 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   217 

them,"  This  is  a  paradox  until  we  distinguish 
theoretical  and  practical  conviction;  then  it  be- 
comes not  only  credible  but  commonplace. 
If  one  prays  to  God,  it  is  not  necessary  for  the 
purposes  of  religion  that  one  should,  in  Fonte- 
nelle's  sense,  believe  in  him.  But  I  prefer  to  use 
the  term  "belief"  more  strictly,  to  connote  such 
assent  as  expresses  itself,  not  in  a  deliberate 
judgment  made  conformable  to  one's  intellectual 
conscience,  but  in  fear,  love,  and  purpose,  in  habit- 
ual imagery,  in  any  attitude  or  activity  that  spon- 
taneously and  freely  presupposes  the  object  with 
which  it  deals. 

By  conceiving  religion  as  belief  we  may  under- 
stand not  only  its  air  of  certainty,  but  also  the 
variety  of  its  forms  and  agencies.  Belief  sits  at 
the  centre  of  life  and  qualifies  all  its  manifesta- 
tions. Hence  the  futility  of  attempting  to  asso- 
ciate religion  exclusively  with  any  single  function 
of  man.  The  guises  in  which  religious  belief  may 
appear  are  as  multiform  as  human  nature,  and 
will  vary  with  every  shading  of  mood  and  tem- 
perament. Its  central  objects  may  be  thought, 
imagined,  or  dealt  with — in  short,  responded  to 
in  all  the  divers  ways,  internal  and  overt,  that  the 
powers  and  occasions  of  life  define. 

This  will  suffice,  I  trust,  to  lay  the  general  topic 
of  religion  before  us.  I  shall  employ  the  terms 
and  phrases  which  I  have  formulated  as  a  work- 


218          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ing  definition:  Religion  is  belief  on  the  part  of 
it  individuals  or  communities  concerning  the  final 
I  or  overruling  control  of  their  interests.2  I  pro- 
pose from  this  point  to  keep  in  the  forefront  of 
the  discussion  the  standards  whereby  religion  is 
to  be  estimated,  and  approved  or  condemned. 
On  what  grounds  may  a  religion  be  criticised? 
What  would  constitute  the  proof  of  an  absolute 
religion?  History  is  strewn  with  discredited 
religions;  men  began  to  quarrel  over  religion  so 
soon  as  they  had  any;  and  it  is  customary  for 
every  religious  devotee  to  believe  jealously  and 
exclusively.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  then,  that 
^religion  is  subject  to  justification;  it  remains  to 
distinguish  the  tests  which  may  with  propriety 
be  applied,  and  irT  particular  to  isolate  and  em- 
phasize the  moral  test. 

II 

In  the  first  place,  let  me  mention  briefly  a  test 
which  it  is  customary  to  apply,  but  which  is"not 
so  much  an  estimate  as  it  is  a  measure.  I  refer 
to  the  various  respects  in  which  an  individual 
or  community  may  be  said  to  be  more  or  less 
religious.  Thus,  for  example,  certain  religious 
phenomena  surpass  others  in  acuteness~of  in- 
tensity. ~TrTisis~pettriiariy4rue  of  the  phenomena 
manifested  in  conversion  and  in  revivals.  In  this 
respect  the  mysteries  of  the  ancients  exceeded 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION    219 

their  regular  public  worship.  Individuals  and 
communities  vary  in  the  degree  to  which  they  are 
capable  of  enthusiasm,  excitement,  or  ecstasy. 

Or  a  religion  may  be  measured  extensively. 
He  whose  religion  is  constant  and  uniform  is 
more  religious  than  he  whose  observance  is  con- 
fined to  the  Sabbath  day,  or  he  whose  concern 
in  the  matter  appears  only  in  time  of  trouble  or 
at  the  approach  of  death.  This  test  may  best 
be  summed  up  Jn  terms  of  consistency.  Relig- 1 
ion  may  vary  in  the  degree  to  whichlt  pervades 
the  various  activities  of  life.  That  religion  is 
confined  and  small  which  manifests  itself  only 
in  words  or  public  deeds  or  emotions  exclusively. 
If  it  is  to  be  effective  it  must  be  systematic,  so 

(thoroughly  adopted  as  to  beTcumuIative  and  pro- 
'gressive.  It  must_engage  every  activity,  qualify 
all  thought  and  imagination,  in  short,  infuse  the 
whole  of  life  with  its  saving  grace. 

It  is  clear,  however,  that  a  measure  of  religion 
does  not  constitute  either  proof  or  disproof.  If 
a  religion  be  good  or  true,  or  on  like  grounds  ac- 
credited, then  the  more  of  it  the  better.  But 
differences  of  degree  appear  in  all  religions.  In- 
deed, the  quantitative  test  has  been  most  ade- 
quately met  by  forms  of  religion  the  warrant  of 
which  is  generally  held  to  be  highly  questionable. 
We  may,  therefore,  dismiss  this  test  without  further 
consideration.  The~  application  of  it  must  be 


220          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

based  upon  a  prior  and  more  fundamental  justi- 
fication. 

>2  )  There  is  one  test  of  religion  which  has  been 
/universally  applied  by  believers  and  critics  alike, 
a  test  which,  I  think,  will  shortly  appear  Jx>_deserve 
precedence  ove.r  all  others.     I  refer  to  the  test 
^oj  truth.^  Every  religion  has  been  justiHecf  to 
its  believers  and  recommended  to  unbelievers  on 
grounds  of  evidence.     It  has  been  verified  in  its 
working,  or  attested  by  either  observation,  re- 
flection, revelation,  or  authority. 

In  spite  of  the  general  assent  which  this  prop- 
osition will  doubtless  command,  *t  is  deserving 
of  special  emphasis  at  the  present  time.  Students 
of  religion  have  latterly  shifted  attention  from 
its  claims  to  truth  to  its-aitility  and  subjective 
V  form.  This  pragmatic  and  psychological  study 
of  religion  has  created  no  little  confusion  of  mind 
concerning  its  real  meaning,  and  obscured  that 
which  is  after  all  its  essential  claim — the  claim, 
namely,  to  offer  an  illumination  of  life.  Relig- 
ious  belief,  like  all  belief,  is  reducible  to  judg- 
v  ments.  These  judgments  are  not,  it  is  true,  ex- 
plicit and  theoretically  formulated;  but  they  are 
none  the  less  answerable  to  evidence  from  that 
context  of  experience  to  which  they  refer.  It  is 
true  that  the  believer's  assurance  is  not  con- 
sciously rational,  but  it  is  none  the  less  liable  be- 
fore the  court  of  reason.  Cardinal  Newman 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION    221 

fairly  expressed  the  difference  between  the  method 
of  religion  and  the  method  of  science  when  he 
said  that  "ten  thousand  difficulties  do  not  make 
one  doubt,"  that  "difficulty  and  doubt  are  in- 
commensurate." 3  Nevertheless,  the  difficulties 
are  in  each  case  germane;  and  the  fact  that  every 
article  of  faith  has  its  besetting  doubt  is  proof 
that  the  thorough  justification  of  faith  requires 
the  settlement  of  theoretical  difficulties. 

No  religion  can  survive  the  demonstration  of 
its  untruttTTTor "  salvatlonT'wfieth'ef'  present  or 
eternal,  depends  on  processes  actually  operative 
in  the  environment.  Religion  must  reveal  the 
undeniable  situation  and  prepare  man  for  it. 
It  must  charge  the  unbeliever  with  being  guilty 
of  folly,  with  deceiving  himself  through  failing 
to  see  and  take  heed.  Every  religious  propaganda 
is  a  cry  of  warning,  putting  men  on  their  guard 
against  invisible  dangers;  or  a  promise  of  suc- 
cor, bringing  glad  tidings  of  great  joy.  And  its 
prophecy  is  empty  and  trivial  if  the  danger  or 
the  succor  can  be  shown  to  ..be-tmreal.  The  one 
unfailing  bias  in  life  is  the  bias  for  disillusion- 
ment, springing  from  the  organic  instinct  for  that 
real  environment  to  which,  whether  friendly  or 
hostile,  it  must  adapt  itself.  Every  man  knows 
in  his  heart  that  he  can  not  be  saved  through 
being  deceived.  Illusions  can  not  endure,  and 
those  who  lightly  perpetrate  them  are  fortunate 


222          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

if  they  escape  the  resentment  and  swift  vengeance 
which  overtook  the  prophets  of  Baal. 

The  grounds  of  religious  truth  will  require 
prolonged  .consideration;  but  before  discussing 
them  further  let  me  first  mention  a  test  of  religion 
which  belongs  to  the  class  of  psychological  and 
pragmatic  tests  to  which  I  have  just  alluded,  but 
whicrTTlas  latterly  assumed  special  prominence. 
Though  realizing  that  I  use  a  somewhat  disparag- 
ing term,  I  suggest  that  we  call  this  the  "  thera- 
peutic test."  It  has  been  proved  that  the  state  of 
piety  possesses  a  direct  curative  value  through 
its  capacity  toexhilarate  of  padf&^accorciing  to 
the  needs  of  a  disordered  mind.  As  a  potent 
form  of  suggestion,  it  lends  itself  to  the  uses  of 
psychiatry;  it  may  be  medicinally  employed  as  a 
tonic,  stimulant,  or  sedative. 

Now  we  can  afford  to  remind  ourselves  that, 
at  least  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  patient,  this 
use  of  religion  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to 
certain  primitive  practices  in  which  God_was  con- 
ceived as  a  glorified  _medicine-man,  and  the  heal- 
ing of  the  body  strangely  confused  with  spiritual 
regeneration.  Bishop  Gregory  of  Tours  once 
addressed  the  following  apostrophe  to  the  wor- 
shipful St.  Martin:  "O  unspeakable  theriac! 
ineffable  pigment!  admirable  antidote!  celestial 
purgative!  superior  to  all  the  skill  of  physicians, 
more  fragrant  than  aromatic  drugs,  stronger  than 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   223 

all  ointments  combined!  thou  cleanest  the  bowels 
as  well  as  scammony,  and  the  lungs  as  well  as 
hyssop;  thou  cleanest  the  head  as  well  as  camo- 
mile!" « 

It  is  true  that  religion  is  in  these  days  recom- 
mended for  more  subtle  disorders;  but  even  re- 
ligious ecstasy  may  be  virtually  equivalent  to  a 
mere  state  of  emotional  exhilaration,  or  piety  to 
a  condition  of  mental  and  moral  stupor.  What 
does  it  profit  a  man  to  be  content  with  his  lot,  or 
to  experience  the  rapture  of  the  saints,  if  he  has 
lost  his  soul?  The  saving  of  a  soul  is  a  much 
more  serious  matter  than  the  cessation  of  worry  or 
the  curing  of  insomnia,  or  even  than  the  acquiring 
of  a  habit  of  delirious  joy.  Tranquillity  and  hap- 
piness are,  it  is  true,  the  legitimate  fruits  of  re- 
ligion, but  only  provided  they  be  infused  with  good- 
ness and  truth.  If  religion  is  to  be  a  spiritual  / 
tonic,  and  not  merely  a  physical  tonic,  it  must 
be  based  on  moral  organization  and  intellectual 
enlightenment.  I  cfo  not  doubt  that  religion  has 
in  all  times  recommended  itself  to  men  mainly 
through  its  contributing  to  their  lives  a  certain 
peculiar  buoyancy  and  peace.  There  is  such  a 
generic  value  in  religion,  which  can  not  be  at- 
tributed wholly  to  any  of  its  component  parts. 
BuL  like  the  intensity  or  extent  of  religion,  this 
may  manifest  itself  upon  all  levels  of  develop- 
ment. ISound  piety,  a  tranquillity -and  happiness 


224          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

which  mark  the  soul's  real  salvation,  must  be 
founded  on  truth,  on  an  interpretation  of  life 
which  expresses^the  fullest  light.  Again,  then, 
we  are  referred  to  thejest  of  truth  for  the  funda- 
mental  jusTTfication  of  religion7"""There  is  a  ge- 
neric value  which  is  deserving  of  the  last  word,  but 
that  word  can  be  said  only  after  a  rigorous  ex- 
amination of  the  more  fundamental  values  from 
which  it  is  derived. 

Religious  truth  is  divisible  into  two  judgments, 
involved  in  every  religious  belief,  and  answerable 
respectively  t3 'ethical  and  kbsmological  evidence. 
Since  religion  is  a  belief  concerning  the  overruling 
control  of  human  interests,  it  involves  on  the  one 
hand  a  summing  up  of  these  interests,  a  concep- 
tion of  what  the  believer  has  at  stake,  in  short, 
an  ethical  judgment;  and  on  the  other  hand,  an 
interpretation  of  the  environment  at  large,  in 
other  words,  a  cosmological  judgment.  Religion 
construes  the  practical  situation  in  its  totality; 
which  means  that  it  generalizes  concerning  the 
content  of  fortune,  or  the  good,  and  the  sources 
of  fortune,  or  nature.  Both  factors  are  invaria- 
bly present,  and  no  religion_  can  escajge  criticism 
on  this  twpfold  ground. 

J  The  ethical  implications  of  religion  are  pe- 
culiarly far-reaching,  since  they  determine  not 
only  its  conception  of  man,  but  also,  in  part,  its 
conceptioiTbl  'God.  This  is  due  to  the  fact  that 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   225 

the  term  "God"  signifies  not  the  environment  in 
its  inherent  nature,  but  the  environment  in  its 
bearing  on  the  worshipper's  interests.  It  fol- 
lows that  whether  God  be  construed  as  favor- 
able or  hostile  will  depend  upon  the  worshipper's 
conception  of  these  interests.  Thus,  for  example,  ' 
if  worldly  success  Vr  long  life  be  regarded  as  the 
values  most  eagerly  to  be  conserved,  God  must 
be  feared  as  cruel  or  capricious;  whereas,  if  the 
lesson  of  discipline  and  humility  be  conceived  as 
the  highest  good,  it  may  be  reasonable  to  trust  the 
providence  of  God  without  any  change  in  its 
manifestation. 

Furthermore,  as  we  shall  shortly  have  occasion 
to  remark,  it  is  characteristic^  religion  to  insist, 
so  far  as  possible,  ~upbn  the  favor ableness  of  the 
environment.  But  this  favorableness  must  be 
construed  in  terms  of  what  are  held  to  be  man's 
highest  interests.  Consequently,  the  disposition 
and  motive  of  God  always  reflect  human  purposes. 
This  is  the  main  source_pf  the_meyjtable  antluppo- 
morphism  of  religion. 

d  Conceptions  of  nature,  on  the  other  hand,  de- 
nne  the  degree  to  which  the  environment  is 
morally  determined,  and  the  unity  or  plurality 
of  its  causes.  Animism,  for  example,  reflectsTthe 
general  opinion  that  the  causes  of  natural  events 
are  wilful  rather  than  mechanical.  Such  an 
opinion  obtained  at  the  time  when  no  sharp  dis- 


226          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

tinction  was  made  between  inorganic  and  organic 
phenomena,  the  action  of  the  environment  being 
conceived  as  a  play  of  impulses. 

Religion  is  corrected,  then,  by  light  obtained 
Jlfrom  these  sources:  man's  knowledge  of  his 
|  [highest  interests,  and  his  knowledge  of  nature. 
As  a  rule,  one  or  the  other  of  these  two  methods 
of  criticism  tends  to  predominate,  in  accordance 
with  the  genius  of  the  race  or  period.^  Thus, 
the  evolution  of  Greek  religion  is  determined 
mainly  by  the  development  of  science.  Xenoph- 
anes  attacks  the  religion  of  his  times  on  the 
ground  of  its  crude  anthropomorphism.  "Mor- 
tals," he  says,  "think  that  the  gods  are  born  as 
they  are,  and  have  perception  like  theirs,  and 
voice  and  form."  But  this  naive  opinion  Xenoph- 
anes  corrects  because  it  is  not  consistent  with  the 
new  enlightenment  concerning  the  «/>%?7,  or  first 
principle  of  nature.  "And  he  [God]  abideth  ever 
in  the  same  place,  moving  not  at  all;  nor  doth  it 
befit  him  to  go  about,  now  hither,  now  thither."  5 
In  a  later  age  Lucretius  criticised  the  whole 
system  of  Greek  religion  in  terms  of  the  atomistic 
and  mechanical  cosmology  of  Epicurus :~~ 

For  verily  not  by  design  did  the  first-beginnings 
of  things  station  themselves  each  in  its  right  place 
guided  by  keen  intelligence,  nor  did  they  bargain 
sooth  to  say  what  motions  each  should  assume;  but 
because  many  in  number  and  shifting  about  in  many 
ways  throughout  the  universe  they  are  driven  and 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   227 

tormented  by  blows  during  infinite  time  past,  after 
trying  motions  and  unions  of  every  kind  at  length 
they  fall  into  arrangements  such  as  those  out  of  which 
this  our  sum  of  things  has  been  formed.9 

In  the  light  of  such  principles  Lucretius  demon- 
strates  the  absurdity  of  hoping  or  fearing  any- 
thing from  a  world  beyond  or  a  life  to  come.  In 
this  case,  as  in  the  case  above,  the  religion  of  en- 
lightenment does  not  differ  essentially  from  the 
religion  of  the  average  man  in  its  conception  of 
the  interests  at  stake,  but  only  in  its  conception 
of  the  methods  of  worship  or  forms  of  imagery 
which  it  is  reasonable  to  employ  in  view  of  the 
actual  nature  of  the  environment, 
l)  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  turn  to  the  early  de- 
velopment of  the  Hebrew  religion,  we  find  that 
it  is  corrected  to  meet  the  demands  not  of  cosmo- 
logical  but  of  ethical  enlightenment.  No  ques- 
tion arises  as  "to  the  existence  of  power  of  God, 
but  only  as  to  whatjierequires  of  those  who  serve 
him.  The  prophets  represent  the  moral  "genius 
of  the  race,  its  acute  discernment  of  the  causes 
of  social  integrity  or  decay.  "And  when  ye 
spread  forth  your  hands,  I  will  hide  mine  eyes 
from  you:  yea,  when  ye  make  many  prayers, 
I  will  not  hear:  your  hands  are  full  of  blood. 
Wash  you,  make  you  clean;  put  away  the  evil  of 
your  doings  from  before  mine  eyes;  cease  to  do 
evil:  learn  to  do  well;  seek  judgment,  relieve 


228          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

the  oppressed,  judge  the  fatherless,  plead  for  the 
widow."  7 

But  whichever  of  these  two  methods  of  criti- 
cism predominates,   it  is  clear  that  they  both 
i  drawupon  bodies  of  truth  whidTgrow  inc 
dentjvjrf  religion.  ^The  history  of  Cnnsuanitv 
affords  a  most  remarkable  record  of  the  continual 

adjustment  Of  religious  be^f  tn  Qprnl^f  rationality 

The  offices  of  religion  have  availed  no  more  to 
justify  cruelty,  intolerance,  and  bigotry  than  to 
establish  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy  or  the  Scrip- 
tural account  of  creation.  This  is  more  readily 
admitted  in  the  case  of  natural  science  than  in  the 
case  of  ethics,  but  only  because  teachers  of  re- 
ligion have  commonly  had  a  more  expert  acquaint- 
ance with  moral  matters  than  with  the  orbits  of 
the  planets  or  the  natural  history  of  the  earth. 

For  the  principles  of  conduct,  like  the  princi- 
\  pies  of  nature,  must  be  derived  from  a  study  of 
the  field  to  jjyJbdch  they  are  applied.  They  re- 
quire nothing  more  for  their  establishment  than 
the  analysis  and  generalization  of  the  moral  situ- 
ation. If  two  or  more  persons  conduct  themselves 
with  reference  to  one  another  and  to  an  external 
object,  their  action  either  possesses  or  lacks,  in 
some  degree,  that  specific  value  which  we  call 
moral  goodness.  And  by  the  principles  of  ethics 
we  mean  the  principles  which  truly  define  and 
explicate  this  value.  Now  neither  the  truth  nor 


JUSTIFICATION  O£,  RELIGION   229 

the  falsity^Ql^any^-refeion  affects  tKese  funda- 
mpntg.l_m1f^  essential  conditions.  If  the  teach- 
ings of  religion  be  accepted  as  true,  then  certain 
factors  may  be  added  to  the  concrete  practical 
situation;  but  if  so,  these  fall  within  the  field  of  ^ 
morality  and  must  be  submitted  to  ethical  prin- 
ciples. Thus,  if  there  "T>e  a  God  whose^  person- 
ality  permits  of  reciprocal  social  relations  with 
man,  then  man  ought,  in  the  moral  sense,  to  be 
prudent  with  reference  to  him,  and  may  reason- 
abTydemand  justice  or  good-will  at  his  hands. 

But  the  mere  existence  of  a  God,  whatever  be 
his  nature,  c^n^either^jnyalidat€  nor  establish 
the  ,pthira1  prinripjes  T>fprudenc^4ustice,  and 
good-will.  Were  a  God  whose  existence  is  proved, 
to  recommend  injustice,  this  would  not  affect 
in  the  sTighfesTdegree"  the  moraA  obligation  to  be 
just.  Moral  revelation  stands  upCft  precisely 
the  same  footing  as  revelation  in  the  sphere  of 
theoretical  truth:  its  acceptance  can  be  justified 
only  through  its  being  confirmed  by  experience 
or  reason.  In  other  words,  it  is  the  office  of  r^ve- 
lation-tQ  reveal  truth  1  frit  not  to  pQtaVJj^h  it.  In 
consequence  of  this  fact  it  may  even  be  necessary 
that  a  man  should  redeem  the  truth  in  defiance  of 
what  he  takes  to  be  the  disposition  of  God. 
Neither  individual  conscience  nor  the  moral  judg- 
ment of  mankind  can  be  superseded  or  modified 
save  through  a  higher  insight  which  these  may 


\ 


23o          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

themselves  be  brought  to  confirm.    Whatever  a 
man  may  think  of  God,  if  he  continues  to  live 
in  the  midst  of  his  fellows,  he  places  himself 
^within  thejurisdiction  of  the  laws  which  obtain 
/  ij  there.    Morality  is^he  method  of  reconciling  and 
N- /(  fulfilling  the  interests  of  beings  having  the  capacity 
I  /  to  conduct  themselves  rationally,  and  ethics  is  the 
I  |  formulation  of  the  general  principles  which  under- 
i  lie  this^  method.    The  attempt  to  live  rationally 
— and,  humanly  speaking,  there  is  no  alternative 
save  the  total   abnegation   of  life — brings   one 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  these  principles,  pre- 
cisely as  thinking  brings  one  within  the  juris- 
diction of  the  principles  of  logic,  or  as  the  moving 
of  one's  body  brings  one  within  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  principles  of  mechanics. 

Religion,  then,  mediates  an  enlightenment 
which  it  does  not  of  itself  originate.  In  religious 
belief  the  truth  which  is  derived  from  a  studious 
v  observation  of  nature  and  the  cumulative  ex- 
perience of  life,  is  heightened  and  vivified.  Like 
all  belief  religion  is  conservative,  and  rightly 
so.  Tint  jri  the  long  run,  steadily  and  inevitably, 
it  responds  to  every  forward  step  which  man  is 
enabled  to  take  through  the  exercise  of  his  natural 
cognitive  powers.  Only  so  does  religion  serve 
its  real  purpose  of  benefiting  life  by  expanding 
its  horizon  and  defining  its  course. 
I  have  hitherto  left  out  of  account  a  certain 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION    231 

stress  or  insistence  that  must  now  be  recognized 
as  fundamental  in  religious  development.  This 
I  shall  call  the  optimistic  bias.  This  bias  is  not 
accidental  or  arbitrary,  but  significant  of  the  fact 
^that  religion,  like  morality,  springs  from  the  same  V 
'motive  as  life  itself^and  makes  towards  the  same 
goal  of  Jfciiiiicauaiid_jabundance.  LJfe^is  essen- 
tially interest,  and  interest  is  essentially  positive 
or  provident;  fear  is  incidental  to  hope,  and  hate 
to  lovrf  Man  seeks  to  know  the  worst  only  in 
order  tr&t  he  may  avoid  or  counterwork  it  in  the 
furtherance  of  his  interests.  Religion  is  the  re-  / 
suit  of  man's  search  for  support  in  the  last  ex- 
tremity. This  is  true,  even  when  men  are  largely 
preoccupied  with  the  mere  struggle  for  existence. 
It  appears  more  and  more  plainly  as  life  becomes 
aggressive,  and  is  engaged  in  the  constructive 
enterprise  of  civilization.  Religion  expresses 
man's  highest  hope  of  attainment,  whether  this 
be  conceived  as  the  efficacy  of  a  fetich  or  the  king- 
dom of  God. 

Such,  then,  are  the  general  facts  of  religion, 
and  the  fundamental  critical  principles  which 
^justify  and  define  its  development.  Religion  is 
man's  belief  in  salvation,  his  confident— appeal 
to  the  overruling  control  of  his  ultimate  fortunes. 
The  recQnsltuction  of  religious  belief  is  made 
necessary  whenever  it  fails  to  express  the  last 
verified  truth,  cosmological  or  ethical.  The 


232          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

direction  of  religious  development  is  thus  a  re- 
sultant of  two  forces:  "tie  optimistic  bias,  or  the 
saving  hope  of  life;  and  rational  criticism,  or  the 
progressive  revelation  of  the  principles  which  de- 
fine life  and  its  environment. 

I  shall  proceed  now  to  the  consideration  of 
types  of  religion  which  illustrate  this  critkal 
reconstruction.  The  types  which  I  shall  select 
represent  certain  forms  of  inadequacy  which  I 
think  it  important  to  distinguish.  They  are  only 
roughly  historical,  as  is  necessarily  the  case,  since 
all  religions  represent  different  types  in  the  vari- 
ous  stages  jaLtheir  devetopmefit^and  in  the  differ- 
ent interpretations  which  are  put  on  them  in  any 
given  time  by  various  classes  of  believers.  I 
shall  consider  in  turn,  using  the  terms  in  a  manner 
to  be  precisely  indicated  as  we  pioceGU*supersti- 
tion?  tutelary  religion,  and  two  forms  o£  philo- 
sophical religion,  the  w\o*  metaphysical  idealism, 
and  the  other  moral  idealism. 

^ .  Superstition  is  distinguished  by  a  lack  of  organ- 
ization both  in  man  and  his  environment.  It  is 
a  direct  cross-relationship  between  an  elementary 
interest,  passion,  or  need,  and  some  isolated  and 
capricious  natural  power.  The  deity  is  externally 
related  to  the  worshipper,  having  private  inter- 
ests of  his  own  which  the  worshipper  respects 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   233 

<*? 

only  from  motives  of  prudence.  Religious  ob- 
servanceTakes  the  form  df  barter  or  propitiation 
—do  ut  des,  do  ut  abeas.  The  methocTof  supersti- 
tion is  arbitrary,  furthermore,  in  that  it  is  defined 
only  by  the  liking  or  aversion  of  an  unprincipled 
agency. 

fj ,  Let  us  consider  briefly  the  type  of  superstition 
which  is  associated  with  the  most  primitive  stage 
in  the  development  of  society.8  The  worshipper 
has  neither  raised  nor  answered  the  ethical_ques-  ^ 
tion  as  to  what  is  his  greatest  good.  Indeed,  he 
is  much  more  concerned  to  meet  the  pressing  needs 
of  life  than  he  is  to  co-ordinate  them  or  under- 
stand to  what  they  lead.  He  can  not  even  be  said 
to  be  actuated  by  the  principle  ofj^tional^  self- 
interest.  Like  the  brute,  whose  lot  is  similar  to 
TiisTown,  he  feels  his  wants  severally,  and  is  forced 
to  meet  them  as  they  arise  or  be  trampled  under 
foot  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  There  is  little 
^coordination  of  his  interests  beyond  that  which 
is  provided  for  in  the  organic  and  social  structure 
with  which  nature  has  endowed  him.  Over  and 
above  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  he  recognizes 
in  custom  the  principle  of  tribal  or  racial  solidarity. 
But  this  is~proof,  not  so  much  of  a  recognition  of 
community  of  interest,  as  of  the  vagueness  of  his 
ideas  concerning  the  boundaries  of  his  own  self- 
hood. The  very  fact  that  his  interests  are  scat- 
tering and  loosely  knit  prevents  him  from  clearly 


234          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

distinguishing  his  own.  He  readily  identifies  him- 
self not  only  with  his  body,  but  with  his  clothing, 
his  habitation,  and  various  trinkets  which  have 
been  accidentally  associated  with  his  life.  It  is 
only  natural  that  he  should  similarly  identify 
himself  with  those  other  beings  like  himself  with 
whom  he  is  connected  by  the  bonds  of  blood  and 
of  intimate  contact.  Morally,  then,  primitive 
I  man  is  an  indefinite  and  incoherent  aggregate  of 
jl  interests^whicF^have  not  yet  assumed  the  form 
even  of  individual  and  community  purpose. 
)To  turn  to  the  second,  -or  cosmological,  com- 
ponent, we  find  that  primitive  InarTs  i  conception 
of  ultimate  powers  is  like  his  conception  of  his  own 
interests  in  being  both  indefinite  and  incoherent. 
In  consequence  of  the  daily  vicissitudes  of  his 
fortune,  he  is  well  aware  that  he  is  affected  for 
better  or  for  worse  by  agencies  which  fall  outside 
the  more  familiar  routine  operations  of  society 
and  nature.  So  great  is  the  disproportion  be- 
tween the  calculable  and  the  incalculable  elements 
of  his  life  that  he  is  like  a  man  crouching  in  the 
dark,  expecting  a  blow  from  any  quarter.  The 
agencies  whose  working  can  be  discounted  in  ad- 
vance form  his  secular  world;  but  this  world  is 
narrow  and  meagre,  and  is  overshadowed  by  a 
beyond  which  is  both  mysterious  and  terrible. 
Of  the  world  beyond  he  has  no  single  comprehen- 
sive idea,  but  he  acknowledges  it  in  his  expecta- 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION    235 

tion  of  the  injuries  and  benefits  which  he  may  at 
any  time  receive  from  it.  It  is  an  abyss  whose 
depths  he  has  never  sounded,  but  which  he  is 
forced  practically  to  recognize,  since  he  is  at  the 
mercy  of  forces  which  emanate  from  it. 

The  method  of  primitive  religion  is  the  in- 
evitable^sequel.  In  behalf  ot  tne  interests  wffich 
represent  hTm  man  must  here,  as  ever,  make 
the  best  terms  he  can  with  the  powers  which  be- 
set him.  He  has  no  concern  with  these  powers 
except  thejiesire  to  propitiate  them.  He  has  no 
knowledge  of  their~~working  excepting  as  re- 
spects their  bearing  upon  his  interests.  Obey- 
ing a  law  of  human  nature  which  is  as  valid  now 
as  then,  he  seeks  for  remedies  whose  proof  is  the 
cure  which  tfiey  effect.  Let  the  association  be- 
tween a  certain  action  on  his  own  part  and  a  fa- 
vorable turn  in  the  tide  of  fortune  once  be  estab- 
lished, and  the  subsequent  course  of  events  will/ 
seem  to  confirm  it.  Coincidences  are  remembered 
and  exceptions  forgotten.T'urtKer morerhts  belief 
in  the  effectual  working  of  the_  established  plan  is 
always  justified  by  the  difficulty  of  proving  any 
other  alternative  plan  to  be  better. 

But,  in"  order  to  understand  superstition,  it  is 
not  necessary  to  reconstruct  the  earliest  period 
in  the  history  of  society,  nor  even  to  study  con- 
temporary savage  life,  for  the  superstitious  in- 
telligence and  the  superstitious  method-survive 


236          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

in  every  stage  of  development.  They  appear,  for 
example,  in  mediaeval  Christianity;  in  Clovis's 
appeal  to  Christ  on  the  battle-field:  " Clotilda 
says  that  Thou  art  the  Son  of  the  living  God,  and 
that  Thou  dost  give  victory  to  those  who  put  their 
trust  in  Thee.  I  have  besought  my  gods,  but 
they  give  me  no  aid.  I  see  well  that  their  strength 
is  naught.  I  beseech  Thee,  and  I  will  believe 
in  Thee,  only  save  me  from  the  hands  of  mine 
enemies."  The  same  period  is  represented  by 
the  petition  attributed  to  St.  Eloi,  "Give, 
Lord,  since  we  have  given!  Da,  Domine,  quia 
dedimus!"9  In  modern  life  the  motive_of  super- 
stition pervades  almost  all  worship,  appearing  in 
sundry  expectations  of  speciaTiavor  to  be  gained 
by  service  or  importunity. 

The  application  of  critical  enlightenment  to 
this  type  of  religion  has  already  been  made  with 
general  consent.  It  is  recognized  that  morally 
super^stition  represents  the  merely  prudential 
level  oTlife:  Ir  Bespeaks" "a  state  of  panic  or  a 
narrow  regard  for  isolated  needs  and  desires. 
Furthermore,  it  tends  to  emphasize  these  consid- 
erations and  at  the  same  time  degrade  the  object 
of  worship  through  claiming  the  attention  of 
God  in  their  behalf.  The  deity  is  conceived,  not 
under  the  form  of  a  broad  and  consecutive  pur- 
pose, but  under  the  form  of  a  casual  and  desultory 
good-nature. 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION    237 

But  superstition  has  been  corrected  mainly  by 
the  advancement  of  scientific  knowledge.  Sci- 
ence has  pronounced  finally  against  the  belief  in 
localized  or  isolated  natural  processes.  Whether 
the  mechanical  theory  be  accepted  or  not,  its 
method  is  beyond  question,  in  so  far  as  it  defines 
laws  and  brings  all  events  and  phenomena  under 
their  control.  In  the  dealings  of  nature  there  can 
be  no  favoritism,  no  special  dispensations,  no 
bargaining  over  the  counter. 

IV 

The  correction  of  superstition  brings  us  to  our 
second  type7~wfnch  1  have  chosen  to  call  tutelary 
religion.  It  is  distinguished  by  the  fact  that  life 
is  organized  into  a^  definite  purpose,  which,  al- 
though still  narrow  and  partisan  with  reference 
to  humanity  at  large,  nevertheless  embraces  and 
subordinates  the  manifold  desires  of  a  community. 
The  deity  represents  this  purpose  in  the  cosmos 
at  large,  and  rallies  the  forces  of  nature  to  its 
support.  He  is  no  longer  capricious,  but  is  pos- 
sessed of  a  character  defined  by  systematic  de- 
votion to  an  end.  His  ways  are  the  ways  of 
effectiveness.  Furthermore,  since  his  aims  are 
identical  with  those  of  his  worshippers,  he  is  now 
loved  and  served  for  himself.  It  follows  that  he 
will  demand  of  his  followers  only  conformity  to 
those  rules  which  define  the  realization  of  the 


238          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

common  aim,  and  that  these  rules  will  be  en- 
forced by  rhe  community  as  the  conditions  of  its 
secular  well-being.  Ritual  is  no  longer  arbitrary, 
but  is  based  on  an  enlightened  knowledge  of 
ways  and  means. 

While  this  type  of  religion  is  clearly  present 
in  the  most  primitive  tribal  worship,  it  is  best 
exemplified  when  a  racial  or  national  purpose 
manifests  itself  aggressively  and  self-consciously, 
as  in  the  cases  of  ancient  Assyria  and  Egypt. 
Here  God  is  identified  with  the  kingship,  both 
being  symbols  of  nationality.  Among  the  As- 
syrians the  national  purpose  was  predominantly 
one  of  military  aggrandizement.  Istar  commu- 
nicates to  Esar-haddon  this  promise  of  support: 
"Fear  not,  O  Esar-haddon;  the  breath  of  inspira- 
tion which  speaks  to  thee  is  spoken  by  me,  and 
I  conceal  it  not.  ...  I  am  the  mighty  mistress, 
Istar  of  Arbela,  who  have  put  thine  enemies  to 
flight  before  thy  feet.  Where  are  the  words  which 
I  speak  unto  thee,  that  thou  hast  not  believed 
them?  ...  I  am  Istar  of  Arbela;  in  front  of 
thee  and  at  thy  side  do  I  march.  Fear  not,  thou 
art  in  the  midst  of  those  that  can  heal  thee;  I  am 
in  the  midst  of  thy  host."  10 

Egyptian  nationality  was  identified  rather  with 
the  principles  of  agriculture  and  political  organi- 
zation. The  deity  is  the  fertilizing  Nile,  or  the 
judge  of  right  conduct.  There  is  recorded  in 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   239 

the  Book  of  the  Dead  the  pleading  of  a  soul  be- 
fore Osiris,  in  which  the  commands  of  the  god       x~ 
are  thusjdentified  with  the  conditions  of  national 
^welfare: 

I  have  not  committed  fraud  and  evil  against  men. 

I  have  not  diverted  justice  in  the  judgment  hall. 

I  have  not  known  meanness. 

I  have  not  caused  a  man  to  do  more  than  his  day's 
work. 

I  have  not  caused  a  slave  to  be  ill  treated  by  his 
overseer. 

I  have  not  committed  murder. 

I  have  not  spoiled  the  bread  of  offering  in  the  temple. 

I  have  not  added  to  the  weight  of  the  balance. 

I  have  not  taken  milk  from  the  mouths  of  children. 

I  have  not  turned  aside  the  water  at  the  time  of  in- 
undation. 

I  have  not  cut  off  an  arm  of  the  river  in  its  course.11 

Similar  illustrations  might  be  drawn  from  the 
nationalistic  phase  of  Hebraism.  The  same 
principle  appears  in  mediaeval  Christianity,  and 
is  thus  embodied  in  the  prologue  of  the  Salic 
Law,  "Long  live  the  Christ,  who  loves  the' 
Franks."  In  more  recent  times  one  might  point 
to  the  Christianity  of  the  Puritan  revolution,  not 
wholly  misrepresented  by  the  maxim  popularly 
attributed  to  Cromwell,  "Put  your  trust  in  God 
and  keep  your  powder  dry,"  or  in  Poor  Richard's 
observation  that  "  God  helps  them  that  help  them- 
selves." 

Such  is  the  religion  of  nationalism,  sectarian- 


24o          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ism,  of  sustained  but  narrow  purpose.  I  shall 
not  attempt  to  formulate  exhaustively  the  ideas 
through  which  this  religion  has  been  corrected. 
\It  is  clear  that  its  defect  lies  in  its  partisansVg'p. 
All  forms  of  partisanship  yield  slowly  but  inevi- 
tably to  the  higher  conception  of  social  solidarity. 
Such  enlightenment  reflects  a  recognition  of 
community  of  interest,  and  a  widening  of  sym- 
pathythrough  intercourse  and  acquaintance. 
Tutelary  religion,  in  short,  is  corrected  through 
('the  validity  of  the  ethical  principles"  or.  jUsttee 
and  g55c^iU<a/rhe  cosmological  correction  of 
this  type  of  religion  is  due  to  the  same  enlighten- 
ment that  discredits  superstition,  a  knowledge, 
namely,  of  the  systematic  unity  of  the  cosmos. 
The  laws  of  nature  are  as  indifferent  to  private 
purposes  as  they  are  to  private  desires,  and  whether 
these  be  personal  or  social  in  their  scope.  Further- 
more, the  universality  of  God  is  recognized  in 
principle  in  the  rules  of^  worship.  For  a  god  of 
war  or  agriculture  or  politics  can  not  be  privately 
appropriated.  If  the  observance  of  the  princi- 
ples proper  to  these  institutions  brings  success  to 
one,  it  brings  success  to  all.(  In  short,  a  god  of 
nationality  must  be  a  god  of  all  nations. J 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION    241 


The  correction  of  tutelary  religion  brings  us  at 
length  to  a  type  which  may  be  said  to  be  formally 
enlightened.  Both  components  of  belief,  the 
ethical  and  the~~cosmological,  are  unjyersalized. 
I  shall  call  this  type,  in  its  general  form,  philo- 

hical  religion,  since  it  recognizes  the  unities  • 
which  systematic  reflection  defines^ It  recog- 
nizes7~on  the  one  hand,  the  summing  up  ofjife 
in  a'Amiversal  ideal,  and  on  the  other  hand, 
a  summing  up  of  the^  total  environment  in 
some  scientifically  formulated  generalization.  It 
affirms  the  priority  of  justice  and  good-will  over 
party  interest,  and  the  determination  of  the  world 
without  reference  to  special  privilege.  Religion 
is  now  the  issue  between  the  good — the  highest 
good,  the  good'of  alP^and  the  undivided  cosmos. 

Within  the  limits  of  philosophical  religion  thus 
broadly  defined  there  is  yet  provision  for  almost 
endless  variety  of  belief.  Religions  may  still 
differ  in  tradition,  symbolism,  and  ritual.  They 
may  differ  as  moral  codes  and  sentiments  differ, 
and  reflect  all  shades  of  opinion  as  this  is  deter- 
mined 15y  discovery  and  criticism. 

But  I  propose  to  confine  myself  to  a  difference 
which  is  at  once  the  mosTbroad  and  fundamental, 
and  thlf  most  "clearly  clefmed  m  ncoirtemporary 
controversy.  This  difference  relates  to  neither 


242          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

ethics  nor  cosmology  exclusively,  but  to  the  relig- 
x  ious  judgment  itself  in  which  these  two  are  united. 
How  is  the  universe  inriTs  entirety  to  be  con- 
strued with  reference  to  the  good?     In  both  of 
the  answers  which  I  propose  to  consider  it  is 
claimed  that  goodness  in  some  sense  possesses  the 
world.    Hence   both   may    be   called   idealisms. 
But  in  one  of  these  answers,  which  I  shall  call 
•     metaphysical  idealism,   the  cosmological   motive 


receives  the  greater  emphasis.  The  good  is  con- 
strued in  terms  ol  being  ;^and,  in  order  that  it  may 
be  absolutely  identified  therewith,  its  original 
nature  must,  if  necessary,  be  compromised.  In 
the  other,  the^moral  motive  predominates.  It 
is  held  that  goodness  must  not  lose  its  meaning, 
even  if  it  be  necessary  that  its  claims  upon  the 
cosmos  should  be  somewhat  abated. 
}  Metaphysical  idealism  is  the^extreme  form  of 
the  optimistic  bias.  It  provides  a  moral  indi- 
vidual with  a  sense  of  proprietqrshrp  jn^thejini- 
verse;  it  justifies  him  in  the  belief  that  the  moral 
victory  has  been  won  from  all  eternity.  Goodness 
is  held  to  be  the  ver^^sehce  and  condition  of  being. 
Let  me  briefly-state  the  inherent  difficulty  in 
this  philosophy  of  religion.  Bejiigjsjudged  to 
be  identical  with  good.  But  the  world  of  ex- 
perience is  not  good;  it  must  therefore  be 
condemned  as  unreal.  Of  what,  then,  do  good- 
ness and  being  consist  ?  If  an  empty  formalism  is 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   243 

to  be  avoided,  the  all-good-and-all-real  must  be 
restored  to  the  world  of  experience.  But  as  the 
all-real  it  can  noFcohsistently  be  identified  with 
only  a  part  of  that  world;  and  if  it  be  identified 
with  the  whole,  its  all-goodness  contradicts  the 
moraLdislinction  within  the  world  of  experience, 
between  good  and  evil.  The  theory  is  now  con- 
fronted with  the  opposite  dangers/mat  of  material-, 
ism,  or  feferal  promiscuousness.  Let  me  illustrate 
this  full  swing  of  the  pendulum  from  formalism 
to  materialism  by  briefly  summarizing  certain  well- 
known  types  of  religious  philosophy. 
'  At  the  formalistic  extreme  stands  the  Buddh- 
istic pessimism,12  which  "rests  on  a  recognition  of 
the  inevitable  taint  of  this  world,  of  the  implica- 
tion of  evil  in  life.  To  avoid  this  taint,  the  all- 
real-and^alPgooS  must  be  freed  even  from  exist^ 
ence.  It  can  be  conceived  and  attained  only 
by  denial.  Nirvana  is  at  once  the  all-real,  the 
all-good,  and — in  terms  of  the  existent  world — 
nothing. 

Other-worldliness  is  the  Christian  modification 
of  the  Oriental  philosophy  of  illusion.  Heaven 
is  a  world  beyond,  to  be  exchanged  for,  this.  It  is 
not  constituted  by  the  denial  of  this  world,  as  is 
Nirvana,  but  access  to  it  is  conditioned  by  such 
denial.  It  is~  goodness  and  happiness  hyposta- 
sized,  and  offered  as  compensation  for  Sartyr- 
dom.  But  since  every  natural  impulse  and  source 


244          THE   MORAL  ECONOMY 

of  satisfaction  must  be  repudiated,  it  remains 
a  purely  formal  conception,  except  in  so  far  as 
the  worldly  imagination  unlawfully  prefigures  it. 
Rigorously  construed,  it  consists  only  in  obedi- 
ence, a  willing  of  God's  will,  whatever  that  may  be. 
Mysticism,13  which  appears  as  ajnotive  in  all 
religions  of  this  type,  defines  the  alFTeal-and-all- 
good  in  terms  of  the  consummation  of  a  progres- 
V  sion,  certain  intermediate  stages  oPwhich  con- 
stitute man's  presenFactivities.  In  Brahmanism, 
God  is  the  perfect  unity,  which  may  be  approx- 
imated Jby^  dwelling  on  identities  and  ignoring 
differences;  in  Platonism,  God  is  the  good-for- 
may  be  approximated  by  dwelling~ex- 


clusively  upon^he  ufilitie^^and  fitness  of  things. 
The  absolute  world  still  remains  beyond  this 
world  and  excludes  it,  although  a  hint  of  its  actual 
nature  may  now  be  obtained.  But  there  at  once 
appears  a  formidable  difficulty.  So  long  as  the 
absolute  world  is  wholly  separated  from  this 
world,  and  therefore  purely  formal,  evil  need  not 
be  imputed  to  it;  but  at  the  moment  when  it  is 
conceived  by  completing  and  perfecting  certain 
processes  belonging  to  this  world,  it  is  committed 
to  these  processes  with  all  their  implications,  and 
tends  to  be  usurped  by  them.  In  other  words, 
heaven,  in  so  far  as  it  obtains  meaning,  grows 
worldly. 
In  the  conception  which  may  be  termed  pan- 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   245 

logism,  heaven  is  boldly  removed  to  earth.  It 
is  identified  with  laws  or  other  universals,  that 
lie  within  the  scope  of  human  intelligence  and 
control  the  course  of  nature.  God  is  now  im- 
manent rather  than  transcendent;  he  has  ob- 
taiFied  a  certain  definable*Content.  But  the  diffi- 
culty which  has  already  appeared  in  mysticism 
now  grows  more  formidable.  How  can  it  be 
said  that  a  being  that  coincides  with  the  known 
laws  of  nature  works  only  good?  Among  the 
Stoics  the  attempt  was  made  to  conceive  all  ne- 
cessities as  somehow  "beneficial,"  as  somehow 
good  in  the  commonly  accepted  sense  of  the  term.14 
But  even  the  Stoics  found  themselves  compelled 
to  abandon  the  common  conception  of  goodness. 
And  in  Spinoza  the  motive  of  panlogism  is  clear 
and  uncompromising.15  God  as_Jhe  immanent 
order  of  the  world  is  good  only  in  that  he  is  neces- 
sa~ry=good  only  in  so  far  as  he  sarisriesnhe ''logical 
interest  and  enables  the  mind  to  understand. 
In  panlogism,  then,  we  find  metaphysical  idealism 
already  compelled  in  behalf  of  its  cardinal  prin- 
ciple to  deny  the  moral  consciousness.  But  this 
is  not  all.  For  even  were^t  to  be  admitted  that 
mjere  system  and  order  constitute  the  good,  wholly 
wltfiout  reference  to  their  bearing  on  the  concerns 
of  life,  the  fact  remains  that  even  such  a  good 
does  not  fairly  represent  J&e  character  of  this' 
world.  For  experience  conveys  not  only  law, 


246          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

but  also  irrelevance  and  chaos;  not  only  harmony 
but  also  discord. 

To  meet  this  Jast  difficulty,  and  at  the  same 
time  better  to  provide  for  the  complexity  of  human 
interests,  metaphysical  idealism  finally  assumes 
the  (Esthetic  forriL The  absolute  world,  the  all- 
real-and-all-good,  is  boldly  construed  in  terms  of 
the  historical  process  itself,  with  all  its  concrete- 
ness  and  immediacy.  Endless  detail,  contrast, 
and  even  contradiction  may  be  brought  under 
the  form  of  aesthetic  ^alue.  The  very  flux  of 
experience,  the  very  struggles  and  defeats  of  life, 
are  not  without  their  picturesqueness  and  dra- 
matic quality.  Upon  this  romantic  love  of  tumult 
and  privation  is  founded  the  last  of  all  metaphys- 
\ical  idealisms.16  A  strange  sequel  to  the  doctrine 
of  (JesjDajr  with  which  our  brief  survey  began! 

I  can  only  recapitulate  most  briefly  the  char- 
acteristic limitations  of  an  aesthetic  idealism. 
First,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  aesthetic  value 
may  be  extraordinarily  comprehensive  in  its  con- 
V.  tent,  as  a  value  it^js^jione  the  less  narrow  and 
exclusive.  For  in  order  that  experience  may  have 
aesthetic  value,  an  aesthelic  interest  must  be  taken 
in  it.  And  even  were  all  experience  to  satisfy 
some  such  interest,  this  would  in  no  wise  provide 
for  the  endless  variety  of  non-aesthetic  interests 
that  are  also  taken  in  it.  Thus,  were  it  to  be 
proved  that  life  on  the  whole  is  picturesque,  this 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION  247 

would  in  no  way  affect  the  fact  that  it  is  also  pain- 
ful, stultifying,  and  otherwise  abounding  in  evil. 

But,  even  if  it  were  to  be  granted  that  aesthetic 
value  embraces  and  subordinates  all  other  values, 
this  higher  value  would  still  exist  only  where  such 
an  aestheticjnterest  was  actually  fulfilled.  If  it 
were  "assumeonhat  the  totality  of  the  world  is 
pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God,  this  would  in  no 
way  affect  the  fact  that  it  is  otherwise  in  the  eyes 
of  men.  Those  who  furnish  a  spectacle  which 
has  dramatic  value  for  an  observer  do  not  neces- 
sarily themselves  share  in  that  value.  It  is  an 
incontrovertible  fact  that  the  aesthetic  interests 
of  men  are  actually  defeated;  and  this  whether 
or  no  some  other  aesthetic  interest — that,  for 
example,  of  a  divine  onlooker — is  fulfilled. 

But  the  radical  defect  of  this  aesthetic  philos- 
ophyoF7eTIgi6Tr~tie"s~m~i^^ 
of  moral  distinctions.  Optimism  has  "so  far 
overreached  itself  as  to  sacrifice  the  very  meaning 
of  goodness.  In  order  that  the  ideal  may  pos- 
sess the  world,  it  has  been  reduced  to  the  world. 
God  is  no  more  than  a  name  for  the  unmitigated 
reality.  Like  Hardy's  Spirit  of  the  Years,  he 
is  the^merejirnrmation  of  things  as  they  are: 

"  I  view,  not  urge;  nor  more  than  mark 
What  designate  your  titles  Good  and  111. 
'Tis  not  in  me  to  feel  with,  or  against, 
These  flesh-hinged  mannikins  Its  hand  upwinds 


248          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

To  click-clack  off  Its  pread justed  laws; 
But  only  through  my  centuries  to  behold 
Their  aspects,  and  their  movements,  and  their 
mould."17 

Morally,  there  could  be  no  more  sinister  interpre- 
tation of  life,    it  otters  itself  as  a  philosophy  of 
Hope,  promising  the  lover  of  good  that  his  pur- 
pose shall  be  fulfilled,  nay,  that  it  is  fulfilled  from 
all  eternity.     But  when  the  pledge  is  redeemed, 
*  it  is  found  to  stipulate  that  the  good  shall  mean 
'  ont^life  as  it  is  already  possessed.    In  other 
words,  man  is  promiseoTwhat  he  wants  if  he  will 
agree_tQj5?ant  what  he  has.    This  is  worse  than 
a  sorry  jest.    It  is  a  philosophy  of  moral  dissolu- 
tion, discrediting  every  downright  judgment  of 
good  and  evil,  removing  the  grounds  upon  which 
is  based  every  single-minded  endeavor  to  purify 
and    consummate    life.      John    Davidson    says: 
"Irony  integrates  good  and  evil,  the  constituents 
of  the  universe.    It  is  that  Beyond-Good-and- 
<  Evil  which  somebody  clamoured  for."  18  Irpny^is 
\indeed  the  last  refuge  of  that  uncompromising 
Optimism  that  equates^goodness  and  being. 

VI 

/  But  the  bankruptcy  of  metaphysical  idealism 
does  not  end  the  matter.  There  is  another  ideal- 
ism in  which  religious  faith  both  confirms  moral 
endeavor  and  gives  it  the  incentive  of.  hope.  This 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION  249 

idealism  establishes  itself  upon  an  unequivocal 
acceptance  of  moral  truth.     It  calls  good  good    / 
and  evil  evil,  with  all  the  finality  which  attaches  1 
to  the  human  experience  of  these  things,  leaving  / 
no  room  for  compromise.    Its  faith  lies  in  the  f 
expectation  that   the_jyorjd_sha]L become  good/ 
through  trie^elmmiSioiiof  evil;  it  manifests  itself/ 
in  the  feloluTioirTcrTiasteii  that  time.     God  ia 
loved  for  the   enemies  he   has  made.     Evil   is/ 
hated  without  reservation  as  none  of  his  doing,  \ 
and  Han  is  free  to  reverence  the  Lord  his  God  I 
with  all  his  heart. 

'  From  the  stand-point  of  moral  idealism  the  uni- 
verse resumes  something  of  its  pristine  rugged- 
ness  and  grandeur.  If,  as  James  says,  "the 
world  appears  as  something  more  epic  than  dra- 
matic," the  dignity  of  life  is  enhanced  and  not 
diminished  on  that  account.10  Life  is  not  a 
spiritual_exerQise_the  results  of_whjgk^aFe  disz 


counted  in  advance ;    but  is  actually  creative,"^ 
tasrnohmg  and  perfecting  a  goooT  that  has  never 
been.     And  the  moment  evil  is  conceived  as  the 
necessary  but  diminishing  complement  to  par- 
tial success,  the  sting  of  it  is  gone.     E^il  as  a  -—  I/. 
temporary  and  accidental  necessity  is  tolerable;       (3> 
but  not  jso  an  evil  which  is  absolutely  necessary, 
and  which  must  be  construed  with  some  hypo- 
thetical divine  satisfaction. 
This  in  no  way  contradicts  the  fact  that  the 


250          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

fullest  life  under  present  conditions  involves 
contact  with  evil.  Innocence"  must  be  tragic  if 
it  is  not  to  be  weak.  Jesus  without  the  cross 
would  possess  something  of  that  quality  of  un- 
reality which  attaches  to  Aristotle's  high-minded 
man.  But  this  does  not  prove  that  life  involves 
*  evil;  it  jproves  only  that  life  will  be  narrow  and 
\  ^mplacent  when  it  is  out  e£  touch  with  things 
as^they  are.  Since  evil  is  now  real,  he  who  alto- 
gether escapes  it  is  ignorant  and  idle,  taking  no 
hand  in  the  real  work  to  be  done.  Not  to  feel 
pain  when  pain  abounds,  not  to  bear  some  share 
of  the  burden,  is  indeed  cause  for  shame.  In  that 
remarkable  allegory,  "The  Man  Who  Was  Thurs- 
day," Chesterton  has  most  vividly  presented  this 
truth.  In  the  last  confrontation,  the  real  an- 
archist, the  spokesman  of  Satan,  accuses  the 
friends  of  order  of  being  happy,  of  having  been 
protected  from  suffering.  But  the  philosopher, 
who  has  hitherto  been  unable  to  understand  the 
despair  to  which  he  and  his  companions  have  been 
driven,  repels  this  slander, 

'I  see  everything,'  he  cried,  *  everything  that  there 
is.  Why  does  each  thing  on  the  earth  war  against  each 
other  thing  ?  Why  does  each  small  thing  in  the  world 
have  to  fight  against  the  world  itself?  ...  So  that 
each  thing  that  obeys  law  may  have  the  glory  and 
isolation  of  the  anarchist.  So  that  each  man  fighting 
for  order  may  be  as  brave  and  good  a  man  as  the 
dynamiter.  So  that  the  real  lie  of  Satan  may  be 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION    251 

flung  back  in  the  face  of  this  blasphemer,  so  that  by 
tears  and  torture  we  may  earn  the  right  to  say  to  this 
man,  "You  lie!"  No  agonies  can  be  too  great  to 
buy, the  right  to  say  to  this  accuser,  "We  also  have 
suffered." 

'It  is  not  true  that  we  have  never  been  broken. 
We  have  been  broken  upon  the  wheel.  .  .  .  We  have 
descended  into  hell.  We  were  complaining  of  un- 
forgettable miseries  even  at  the  very  moment  when 
this  man  entered  insolently  to  accuse  us  of  happiness. 
I  repel  the  slander;  we  have  not  been  happy.' 20 

But  the  charge  of  happiness  is  to  be  repelled 
as  a  slander  only  because  there  are  real  sufferers 
in  the  world  to  make  the  charge.  It  isTaJter  all, 
noTliappiness  but  insensibility  which  is  the  real 
disgrace.  If  the  suffering  is  real,  not  to  see  it, 
not  to  feel  it,  not  to  heal  it,  is  intolerable.  To 
say,  however,  that  suffering  is  wilfully  caused  in 
order  that  it  may  eventually  contribute  to  an 
ultimate  reconciliation,  is  to  charge  God  with 
something  worse  than  complacency.  If  life  is  a 
real  tragedy  it  can  be  endured,  and  to  enter  into 
it  will  bring  the  deep  satisfaction  which  every 
form  of  heroism  affords.  But  if  the  tragedy  of 
life  be  preconceived  and  wilfully  perpetrated, 
it  must  be  resented  for  the  sake  of  self-respect. 
Even  man  possesses  a  dignity  which  is  not  con- 
sistent with  puppetry  and  mock  heroics. 

Moral  idealism  means  to  interpret  life  consist- 

\  pntVy^Wifh    fthi^lj    griVntifir,     cmH    ^PJ^phygiral 

^ truth.    It  endeavors  to  justify  the  maximum  of 


252         THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

hope,  without  compromising  or  confusing  any  en- 
lightened judgment  of  truth.  In  this  it  is,  I  think, 
not  only  consistent  with  the  spirit  of  a  liberal  -and 
rational  age,  but  also  with  the  primary  -  motive 
of  religion.  There  can  be  no  religion  with  reserva- 
tions, fearful  of  increasing  light.  No  man  can 
do  the  work  of  religion  without  an  open  and  can- 
did mind  as  well  as  an  indomitable  purpose. 

I  can  not  here  elaborate  the  evidence  upon 
which  moral  idealism  is  grounded;  but  it  might 
be  broadly  classified  as  ethical,  cosmological,  and 
historical. /l^The  ethical  ground  of  moral  ideal- 
ism is  the  virtual  unity  of  life,  the  working  therein 
of  one  eventual  purpose  sustained  by  the  good- 
will of  all  moral  beings j*  The  cosmological  proof 
lies  in  the  moral_  fruitfulness  and  plasticity  of 
nature-  .  The  historical  proof  lies  in  the  fact  of 
morarprogress,  in  the  advent  and  steady  better- 
ment of  life. 

VII 

In  conclusion  I  wish  to  revert  to  the  topic  of 
the  generJ£_prooLjQ£  religion.  We  have  defined 
the  tests  which  any  special  religion  must  meet, 
and  unless  conformably  to  such  tests  it  is  possible 
to  justify  some  form  of  idealism,  it  is  clear  that 
the  full  possibilities  of  religion  as  a  source  of 
strength  ancf  consolation  must  fail  to  be  realized. 
But  it  may  now  be  affirmed  that  there  is  a  moral 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   253 

value  in  religion  which  is  independent  of  the  cos- 
rn^Ibgrcai^onsiderafions  whicfTprpve  or  disprove 
a  special  religion.  No  scientific  or  metaphysical 
evidence  can  controvert  the  fact 'that  man  is  en- 
gaged in  an  enterprise  which  comprehends  all  the 
actualities  and  possibilities  of  life,  and  that  the 
success  of  this  enterprise  is  conditioned,  in  the 
end,  on  the  compliance  of  the  universe.  A  sum- 
ming up  of  the  situation  as  involving  these  two 
factors  is  morally  inevitable.  Some  solution  of  the 
problem,  assimilated  and  enacted,  in  other  words, 
some  form  of  piety,  is  no  more  than  the  last  stage 
of  moral  growth. 

The  vahie  of  religious  belief,  in  this  generic 
moral  sense,  consists  in  the  enlargement  of  the 
/  circle_ofjife.  Man  knows  the  best  and  the  worst; 
he  walks  in  the  open,  apprehending  the  world 
in  its  full  sweep  and  just  proportions.  An  in- 
clusive view  of  the  universe,  whatever  it  may  re- 
veal, throws  into  relief  the  lot  of  man.  Religion 
promulgates  the  idea  of  life  as  a  whole,  and  com- 
poses and  proportions  its  activities  with  refer- 
ence to  their  ultimate  end.  Religion  advocates 
not  the  virtues  in  their  severalty,  but  the  whole 
moral  enterprise.  With  this  it  affiliates  all  the 
sundry  activities  of  life,  thus  bringing  both  action 
and  thought  under  the  form  of  service  of  the  ideal. 
At  the  same  time  it  offers  a  supreme  object  for 
the  passions,  which  are  otherwis%~-tHvkled  against 


254          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

themselves,  or  vented  upon  unworthy  and  fan- 
tastical objects.  Through  being  thus  economized 
and  guidedjjiese  moying_energies  may  be  brought 
to  suprjorXmoraL  endeavQr_aad  bear  it  with  them 
in  their  current. 

Piety  carries  with  it  also  that  sense  of  high  re- 
solve without  which  life  must  be  haunted  with  a 
sense  of  ignominy.  This  is  the  immediate  value 
of  the  good-will:  the  full  deliverance  of  one's  self 
to^e  cause  of  goedaess.  This  value  is  inde- 
pendent of  attainment.  It  is  that  doing  of  one's 
best,  which  is  the  least  that  one  can  do.  Having 
sped  one's  action  with  good-will,  one  can  only 
leave  the  outcome  to  the  confluence  and  sum- 
ming of  like  forces.  But  such  service  is  blessed 
both  in  the  eventualities  and  in  a  present  har- 
mony as  well.  The  good  of  participation  in  the 
greatest  and  most  worthy  enterprise  is  proved 
in  its  lending  fruitfulness,  dignity,  and  momen- 
tousness  to  action;  but  also  in  its  infusing  the 
individual  life  with  that  ardor  and  tenderness 
which  is  called  the  love  of  humanity  and  of  God, 
and  which  is  the  only  form  of  happiness  that 
fully  measures  up  to  the  awakened  moral  con- 
sciousness. 

Since  religion  emphasizes  the  unity  of  life  and 
supplies  it  with  meaning  and  dignity,  it  is  the 

fc '    -  -  -  '  '  "~  •  ii    i     _^ 

cti0*1  °f  religion  to  kindle  moral  enthusiasm 
nsociety  at largei     Religion  is  responsible  for  the 


JUSTIFICATION  OF  RELIGION   255 

prestige  of  morality.  As  an  institution,  it  is  the 
appointed  guardian  and  medium  of  that  supreme 
value  which  is  hidden  from  the  world;  of  that 
finality  which,  in  the  course  of  human  affairs, 
is  so  easily  lost  to  view  and  so  infrequently  proved. 
It  is  therefore  the  function  of  the  religious  leader 
to  make  men  lovers,  not  of  the  parts,  but  of  the 
whole  of  goodness.  Embarrassed  by  their  very 
plenitude  of  life,  men  require  to_haye  the  good- 
will that  is  injhem  aroused  andjmt  in  control. 
This,  then7~is  the  work  of  religion:  to  strike 
home  to  the  moral  nature  itself,  and  to  induce  in 
men  a  keener  and  more  vivid  realization  of  their 
latent  ^reference  for  the  higher  over  the  lower 
values.  ThisT  office"  requires  for  its  fulfilment  a 
constructive  moral  imagination,  a  power  to 
arouse  and  direct  the  contagious  emotions,  and 
the  use  of  the  means  of  personality  and  ritual  for 
the  creation  of  a  sweetening  and  uplifting  en- 
vironment. 

In  culture  and  religion  human  life  is  brought" 
to  the  elevation  which  is  proper  to  it.    They  are 
both  form~s~~bT  discipline  through  which  is  incul- 
cated that  qualit)Tof  magnanimity  and  service 
which  is  the  mark  of  spiritual  maturity.    But       >. 
while  culture  is  essentially  contemplative,   far- 
seeing,  sensitive,  and  tolerant,  religion  is  more 
stirring  and_vital.    Both  are  love  of  perfection, 
but"  culture    is    admiration;     religion,  concern. 


256          THE  MORAL  ECONOMY 

"Not  he  that  saith  Lord,  Lord,  but  he  that  doeth 
the  will  of  his  Father,  shall  be  saved."  In  re- 
ligion the  old  note  of  fear  is  always  present.  It  is 
a  perpetual  watchfulness  lest  the  work  of  life 
be  undone,  or  lest  a  chance  for  the  best  be  for- 
feited. 


NOTES 

CHAPTER  I 

I  Joseph  Butler:  Sermon  VII,  edited  by  Gladstone,  p.  114. 
Cf.  also  Sermon  X,  on  Self-Deceit. 

'Nietsche:  Beyond  Good  and  Evil,  translated  by  Helen 
Zimmern,  p.  174. 

3  Edmund  Burke:  A  Vindication  of  Natural  Society,  Preface, 
pp.  4,  5.  (Boston,  1806.) 

<  The  classic  discussion  of  the  whole  matter  is  to  be  found 
in  Aristotle's  Nicomachean  Ethics,  Book  I,  Chapters  I-VI, 
translated  by  J.  E.  C.  Welldon.  Cf.  also  Fr.  Paulsen:  System 
of  Ethics,  Book  II,  Chapters  I,  II,  translated  by  Frank  Thilly; 
G.  H.  Palmer:  The  Nature  of  Goodness,  Chapters  I,  II;  and 
W.  James:  The  Moral  Philosopher  and  the  Moral  Life,  in 
his  Will  to  Believe. 

6  The  issue  is  presented  clearly  and  briefly  in  Paulsen :  Op. 
cit.,  Book  II,  Chapter  II,  and  in  James's  Principles  of  Psy- 
chology, Vol.  II,  pp.  549-559- 

8  Nietsche:  Op.  cit.,  p.  107. 

7  Huxley:   Evolution  and  Ethics  and  Other  Essays,  pp.  81- 
82.     The  first  two  essays  contained  in  this  volume,  the  Prole- 
gomena, and  the  Romanes  Lecture,  contain  a  very  interesting 
study  of  the  relation  of  morality  to  nature. 

8  Huxley:   Op.  cit.,  p.  13. 

9  G.  K.  Chesterton:    Napoleon  of  Netting  Hill,  p.  291. 
The  whole  book  is  a  brilliant  satire,  intended  to  show  that  all 
of  the  heroic  sentiments  and  virtues  depend  on  war  and  local 
pride. 

10  Nietsche:  Op.  cit.,  pp.  59,  163,  176,  223,  235,  237,  122. 

II  Chesterton:  Heretics,  and  Orthodoxy. 

"Plato:  Protagoras,  p.  322  (marginal  pagination),  and 
passim;  translated  by  Jowett. 

257 


258  NOTES 


CHAPTER  II 

I  Locke:  The  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  Bonn's  Library 
Edition,  Vol.  I,  p.  72;  also,  passim. 

» Locke:  Op.  cit.,  p.  56. 

8  Descartes:  Discourse  on  Method,  translated  by  Veitch, 
pp.  13-14.  Also,  passim. 

4  Spinoza:  The  Improvement  of  the  Understanding,  trans- 
lated by  Elwes,  Vol.  II,  p.  4. 

* Cf.  Plato's  Republic,  Books  V-VII,  passim. 

8  For  further  discussion  of  the  meaning  of  duty,  cf.  Kant's 
Critical  Examination  of  the  Practical  Reason,  Book  I,  Chapter 
III,  translated  in  Abbott's  Kant's  Theory  of  Ethics,  p.  164; 
Bradley's  Ethical  Studies,  Essays  II  and  V;    and  Sidgwick's 
Methods  of  Ethics,  Book  I,  Chapter  III. 

7  Chesterton:  Napoleon  of  Notting  Hill,  p.  162. 

s  G.  E.  Moore:   Principia  Ethica,  Chapter  III,  Sect.  58-63. 

9  Locke:  Op.  cit.,  p.  29. 

10  There  is  an  excellent  account  of  the  questions  that  lie 
on  the  border  between  ethics  and  jurisprudence  in  S.  E. 
Mezes's  Ethics,  Descriptive  and  Explanatory,  Chapter  XIII. 

II  Kant:     Fundamental   Principles   of  the   Metaphysic   of 
Morals,  translated  in  Abbott's  Kant's  Theory  of  Ethics,  p.  47. 

1JH.  G.  Lord:  The  Abuse  of  Abstraction  in  Ethics,  in  Es- 
says  Philosophical  and  Psychological  in  Honor  of  William 
James,  pp.  37^377- 

"John  Davidson:   A  Rosary,  pp.  77,  82. 

14  Maurice  Maeterlinck:  The  Measure  of  the  Hours,  trans- 
lated by  A.  T.  de  Mattos,  p.  151.  The  essay  in  this  volume, 
entitled  "Our  Anxious  Morality,"  charges  rationalism  with 
destroying  the  romantic  and  mystical  element  in  life. 


CHAPTER  III 

1  A  good  discussion  of  the  several  virtues  will  be  found  in 
Paulsen:  Op.  cit.,  Book  III. 

1  W.  H.  S.  Jones:  Greek  Morality,  p.  50. 

*  Jeremy  Taylor:  Rules  and  Exercises  of  Holy  Living, 
edited  by  Ezra  Abbot,  p.  73. 

4  Jones:   Op.  cit.,  p.  124. 


NOTES  259 

•  Count  Baldesar  Castiglione:  The  Book  of  the  Courtier, 
translated  by  Opdycke,  p.  250. 

«C/.  Hobbes:  Leviathan,  Chapters  XIII,  XIV,  XV.  In 
Hobbes's  account,  morality  is  reduced  wholly  to  the  pru- 
dential economy. 

» H.  G.  Wells:  First  and  Last  Things,  p.  82. 

8  Castiglione:  Op.  cit.,  p.  257. 

» Burke:   Op.  cit.,  p.  8. 

>°  Epictetus:  Discourses,  Book  III,  Chapter  XXII,  trans- 
lated by  Long,  Vol.  II,  pp.  82,  83. 

11  Taylor:   Op.  cit.,  p.  7. 

"  Epictetus:  Op.  cit.,  Book  II,  Chapter  XXI,  translated  by 
Long,  Vol.  I,  p.  229. 

»3  Cf.  Hegel:  Philosophy  of  Right,  Third  Part,  Third  Sec- 
tion, translated  by  S.  W.  Dyde;  and  Philosophy  of  History, 
Introduction,  translated  by  J.  Sibree. 

"C/.  Plato's  Republic,  passim,  but  especially  Book  IV. 
Plato  makes  the  state  analogous  to  the  individual  organism, 
requiring  baser  classes  that  shall  permanently  supply  its  lower 
functions,  as  well  as  classes  that  shall  supply  its  higher  func- 
tions and  so  participate  in  its  full  benefits. 

"Aristotle:  Politics,  Book  II,  Chapter  V,  translated  by 
Jowett,  p.  35.  Cf.  also  Chapter  II. 

"  Epictetus:  Op.  cit.,  Book  II,  Chapter  XV,  translated  by 
Long,  Vol.  I,  p.  189. 

17  Sophocles:    Antigone,  translated  by  G.  H.  Palmer,  pp. 
61,  62. 

18  Munro  and  Sellery:   Medieval  Civilization,  pp.  349-350. 

19  Castiglione:   Op.  cit.,  p.  261. 

20  Quoted  from  Diog.  Laert.  by  Jones,  op.  cit.,  p.  69.     For 
a  full  account,   cf.   Aristotle's   Nicomachean  Ethics,   Books 
VIII  and  IX,  translated  by  Welldon,  pp.  245-314. 

"  Walter  Bagehot:  Physics  and  Politics,  No.  V,  in  the  edi- 
tion of  the  International  Scientific  Series,  pp.  165-166.  Cf. 
this  chapter  passim. 

22  Matthew  Arnold:  Culture  and  Anarchy,  p.  100. 

M  Quoted  by  Jones:   Op.  cit.,  p.  128. 

"Ibid. 

"Arnold:   Op.  cit.,  pp.  25-26.     Cf.  passim. 

26  Euripides:  Medea,  translated  by  Gilbert  Murray,  pp. 
67-68. 


2<5o  NOTES 

«7  Cf.,  e.  g.,  Aristotle,  Nicomachean  Ethics,  Book  X.  Also 
J.  A.  Farrer's  Paganism  and  Christianity,  passim;  and  Paulsen, 
op.  tit.,  Book  I,  Chapters  I-III. 

28  Sir  Thomas  Browne:    Religio  Medici,  edited  by  J.  M. 
Dent  &  Co.,  p.  97. 

29  W.  James:  Pragmatism,  p.  230. 

30  Browne:   Op.  cit.,  pp.  118-119. 
81  Ibid.,  p.  no. 

32  Castiglione:  Op.  cit.,  pp.  304-305. 

CHAPTER  IV 

1  The  nearest  approach  to  such  a  philosophy  of  history  is 
George  Santayana's  Life  of  Reason.    The  reader  will  find  it 
the  best  book  of  reference  for  this  and  the  following  chapter. 
Cf.  also,  Samuel  Alexander's  Moral  Order  and  Progress. 

2  Bagehot:   Op.  cit.,  No.  VI,  pp.  208-209. 
8  Ibid.,  p.  161. 

« Nietsche:   Op.  cit.,  pp.  65-66. 

6  For  a  general  ethical  discussion  of  the  function  of  govern- 
ment, cf.  Santayana:  Reason  in  Society,  Chapters  III- VIII. 

6  Sophocles:  Antigone,  translated  by  Palmer,  pp.  60,  63-64. 

1 1  Samuel,  Chapter  VIII. 

8  Quoted  in  Taine's  Philosophy  of  Art  in  Greece,  translated 
by  J.  Durand,  p.  130. 

"Thucydides:  Peloponnesian  War,  Book  II,  Chapters 
37-40,  translated  by  Jowett,  pp.  117-119. 

10  Plato:  Republic,  Book  IV,  p.  433,  translated  by  Jowett. 

»  Burke:   Op.  cit.,  p.  45. 

"  For  a  brief  statement  of  the  elements  of  political  science 
in  their  application  to  modern  institutions,  cf.  E.  Jenks:  A 
History  of  Politics. 

13  Arnold :  The  Future  of  Liberalism,  in  the  volume,  Mixed 
Essays,  Irish  Essays  and  Otherf,  p.  383.  Cf.  also  the  ad- 
mirable essay  on  Democracy  in  the  same  volume. 

»  Plato:  Republic,  Book  I,  p.  335,  translated  by  Jowett. 

16  Wells:  Oj>.  cit.,  pp.  130-131. 


NOTES  261 


CHAPTER  V 

1  A  good  account  of  the  meaning  of  art  is  to  be  found  in 
Santayana's  Reason  in  Art,  Chapters  I-III. 

2  For  this  whole  topic  of  the  aesthetic  interest,  cf.  H.  R. 
Marshall's  Pleasure,  Pain,  and  ^Esthetics. 

8  For  an  interpretation  of  painting  in  terms  of  the  perceptual 
process,  cf.  B.  Berenson's  Florentine  Painters  of  the  Renais- 
sance, pp.  1-16;  and  North  Italian  Painters  of  the  Renaissance, 

pp.  I45-I57- 

4  The  best  account  of  the  emotions  and  instincts  is  to  be 
found  in  James's  Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  II,  Chapters 
XXIV,  XXV. 

6  Walter  Pater:   The  Renaissance,  p.  140. 
•Taine:   Op.  cit.,  pp.  112,  114-115,  and  passim. 

7  Pater:  Op.  cit.,  pp.  129-130;  cf.  the  chapter  on  Leonardo 
da  Vinci,  entire. 

"Plato:  Republic,  Book  III,  p.  398,  translated  by 
Jowett.  The  whole  of  Books  III  and  X  are  interesting  in 
this  connection. 

» In  connection  with  the  general  topic  of  the  moral  criticism 
of  art,  cf.  Santayana's  Reason  in  Art,  Chapters  IX-XI;  also 
Ruskin's  Lectures  on  Art,  Lectures  II-IV. 

10  Aristotle:  Nicomachean  Ethics,  Book  X. 

11  Cf.  the  Republic,  Book  X. 

"Arthur  Benson:  Beside  Still  Waters,  pp.  138-139.  Cf. 
also  pp.  143-144. 

11  Pater:  Op.  cit.,  pp.  249,  250;  cf.  the  Conclusion,  passim. 

14  James:   Op.  cit.,  Vol.  I,  pp.  125-126. 

»  Republic;  Book  X,  p.  606,  translated  by  Jowett. 

16  Ibid.,  Book  III,  p.  399. 

"  Aristotle:  Politics,  Book  VIII,  Chapter  V,  translated  by 
Jowett,  p.  252. 

18  Taine :  The  Ideal  in  Art,  translated  by  J.  Durand, 
pp.  42  sq. 

»»Tolsto'y:  What  is  Art?  X,  translated  by  Leo  Wiener, 
p.  227. 

"Arnold:  Culture  and  Anarchy,  pp.  37,  38.  Cf.  Chapter 
I,  passim. 

"  Republic,  Book  III,  p.  401,  translation  by  Jowett. 


262  NOTES 


CHAPTER  VI 

1  This  chapter  is  reprinted  from  the  Harvard  Theological 
Review  for  April,  1909. 

2 1  have  treated  this  matter  more  fully  in  my  Approach  to 
Philosophy,  Chapters  III  and  IV.  At  the  close  of  that  book 
the  reader  will  find  a  selected  bibliography  of  the  subject. 

'John  Henry  Newman:  Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua,  p.  239. 
The  whole  book  is  of  interest  in  this  connection. 

*  Munro  and  Sellery :  Mediaval  Civilization,  p.  69. 

1  Fragments  of  Xenophanes,  in  Burnet's  Early  Greek  Phil- 
osophy, p.  115. 

6  Lucretius:  De  Rerum  Natura,  Book  I,  lines  1021-1028, 
translated  by  Munro. 

7  Isaiah  1:15-17. 

I  For  a  brief  account  of  primitive  religion,  cf.  J.  B.  Pratt's 
Psychology  of  Religious  Belief.     For  a  fuller  account,   cf. 
F.  B.  Jevons's  Introduction  to  the  History  of  Religion. 

9  Munro  and  Sellery:  Op.  cit.,  pp.  80,  75. 

10  A.  H.  Sayce:  Babylonians  and  Assyrians,  p.  253. 

II  A.  Wiedemann:  Religion  of  the  Ancient  Egyptians,  p.  250. 

11  Cf.  H.  C.  Warren's  Buddhism  in  Translation. 

"The  reader  will  find  a  good  exposition  of  mysticism  in 
Royce's  World  and  the  Individual,  First  Series,  Lectures 
II,  IV,  V. 

"  Cf.,  e.  g.,  Epictetus:  Discourses,  Book  II,  Chapter  VIII. 

18  Cf.  Spinoza's  Ethics,  passim,  translated  by  Elwes. 

16  Cf.  Royce's  account  of  Romanticism  and  Hegel,  in  his 
Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy,  Lectures  VI,  VII.     This  motive, 
together  with  the  motive  of  mysticism,  appears  in  such  writ- 
ings as  J.  McT.  E.  McTaggart's  Studies  in  Hegelian  Cos- 
mology, Chapter  IX;   and  A.  E.  Taylor's  Problem  of  Conduct, 
Chapter  VIII. 

17  Thomas  Hardy:   The  Dynasts,  Part  I,  p.  5. 

18  John  Davidson:   A  Rosary,  p.  88. 

19  James:    Pragmatism,  p.  144.    The  whole  chapter  is  a 
brilliant  representation  of  the  stand-point  of  moral  idealism. 

10  G.  K.  Chesterton:  The  Man  Who  Was  Thursday,  pp. 
278-279. 


INDEX 


ACHIEVEMENT,  79,  81,  97. 

Adaptation,  22. 

^Esthetic  Interest,  definition 
of,  179;  varieties  of,  iSi/"., 
189;  moral  limitation  of, 
190;  self -sufficiency  of,  192; 
exaggeration  of,  192,  195, 
198  ff-\  its  pervasiveness, 
194  ff.;  vicariousness  of, 
197;  stimulating  character 
of,  201,  203  ff;  liberality  of, 
2ogff.;  in  religion,  246  ff. 

Aimlessness,  94. 

Anarchism,  107. 

Aristotle,  quoted,  100,  106, 
192,  204. 

Arnold,  M.,  quoted,  108,  109, 
112,  164,  211. 

Art,  moral  criticism  of,  Ch.  V; 
its  liability  to  moral  criti- 
cism, 173  ff.;  definition  of, 
177;  distinction  between 
industrial  and  fine,  ^1  ff.; 
emotion  in,  182  ff.;  repre- 
sentative function  of,  185^., 
203  /.;  Greek,  185  /.;  of 
Renaissance,  187;  censor- 
ship of,  190;  stimulating 
character  of,  201  ff.;  truth 
in,  205  ff.;  universality 
and  particularity  of,  207  ff.; 
and  liberality,  2ogff.;  moral 
function  of,  212. 

Asceticism,  79,  81,  92  ff. 


BAGEHOT,  quoted,  106,  127, 

132. 

Beauty,  and  goodness,  172^. 
Belief,  and  religion,  216,  220, 

228. 

Benson,  A.,  quoted,  194. 
Bigotry,  79,  81,  101  ff. 
Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  quoted, 

115,  117,  118. 
Buddhism,  243. 
Burke,  quoted,  6,  92, 158,  214. 
Butler,  J.,  quoted,  i. 

CASTIGLIONE,  quoted,  89,  90, 

119. 

Character,  97. 
Chesterton,  G.  K.,  32;  quoted, 

28,  55,  250. 
Christianity,  94,  in,  114^"., 

140, 158, 187,  228,  239,  243. 
Civilization,  3,  6,  10,  23,  32, 

124,    137,    167,    170,    215. 

See  Progress. 
Competition,    14,    129,    130; 

relation  to  morality,  24^. 
Conscience,  34,  36.  See  Duty. 
Conservatism,  144^". 
Convention,  36,  38  ff. 
Cosmological,   test   of   relig- 
ion,   224,    225,    234,    237, 

240,  241,  252. 
Courage,  95. 
Culture,  211,  255.  Chap.  V, 

passim. 


263 


264 


INDEX 


Cynics,  the  Greek,  gaff.,  137. 

DAVIDSON,  J.,  quoted,  70,248. 

Democracy,  29,  39;  modern 
idea  of,  is8/.,  163  /. 

Descartes,  quoted,  35. 

Desire,  u.     See  Interest. 

Discussion,  106,  132. 

Dogmatism,  4. 

Duty,  Ch.  II,  40,  72;  formal- 
ism and,  76. 

EGOISM,   theoretical,    59  ff.; 

practical,  79,  81,  101. 
Emotion,   and    art,    182  ff., 

201  ff. 

Epictetus,  quoted,  93,  96, 100. 
Equality,  65,  66,  i$8ff.,  163  ff. 
Ethics,  and  history,  124;  and 

religion,  224  /.,  233,  240, 

241,  252;  independence  of, 

228.     See  Morality. 
Euripides,  quoted,  114. 
Evil,  n,  15,  84,  86;  religious 

conception  of,  243^.  249^. 

See  Good,  Vice,  Formalism, 

Materialism. 

FAITH,  33,  71. 

Fine  Art.     See  Art. 

Formalism,  74  ff.,  92;  and 
duty,  76,  77;  varieties  of, 
79,81,92,98,107,116,209, 
242. 

Freedom,  36,  107,  164. 

GOD,  216,  224  ff.,  229,  232, 

237,  240,  245,  249. 
Good,    basal    definition    of, 

1 1  ff.,  44;  definition  of  moral, 

15  ff.',  relativity  of,  45  ff.; 

relation  to  beautiful, 

212. 


Good-will,    logic   of,   67  ff.; 
virtue  of,  79,  81,  113  /., 

158- 
Government,  14;  progress  in, 

148  ff.;  Platonic  theory  of, 

148;     definition    of,     150; 

ancient  forms  of,   152  ff.; 

summary  of  modern,  i6off. 
Greece,  morality  of,  no,  114; 

government  in,  154^.;  art 

of,  185  ff.,  204;  religion  of, 

226. 

HAPPINESS,  18,  115,  n6ff. 
Hardy,  T.,  quoted,  247. 
Health,  79,  81,  88 /. 
Hebrews,  government  of,  152; 

religion  of,  227,  239. 
Hedonism,  16. 
History,  meaning  of,  123  ff. 
Hobbes,  89. 
Honesty,  88. 
Huxley,    theory   of  morality 

and  nature,  21  ff. 

IDEALISM,  metaphysical, 

242 ff.;  aesthetic,  246;  moral 

248 /. 

Idleness,  94. 

Imagination,  28,  69,  in. 
Imprudence,  79,  81,  85  /. 
Incapacity,  79,  81,  83. 
Individualism,  34^". 
Injustice,  79,  81,   103.     See 

Justice. 
Institutions,  their  necessity,  3, 

147.  See  Government. 
Intelligence,  79,  81,  82  ff. 
Interest,  definition  of,  n,  43; 

organization  of,  13,  14,  19; 

variety    of,    16,     17;    the 


INDEX 


265 


higher,  52;  conflict  of,  53; 
objective  validity  of,  54; 
private,  57  ff.',  the  poten- 
tial, 67,  68,  167;  present 
and  ulterior,  ^  ff.',  econo- 
mies of,  78;  simple,  78,  81, 
82jf.;  reciprocity  of,  78,  81, 
8j/.;  incorporation  of,  78, 
8  1,  95  ff.\  fraternity  of,  78, 
8  1,  io$ff.',  universal  system 
of,  79,  8  1,  ii  s/.;  and  prog- 
ress, 132;  and  reform,  137; 
and  revolution,  139;  and 
governmental  48  ff.;  the 
aesthetic,  179;  the  theoreti- 
cal, 1  80,  193;  varieties  of 
the  aesthetic,  i8i/.  See 
^Esthetic  Interest. 

JAMES,  W.,  quoted,  116,  199, 

249. 
Justice,  meanings  of,  63,  79, 

81,  105,  158,  163;  logic  of, 


KANT,  quoted,  64. 

LAISSEZ-FAIRE,  108. 

Liberality,  156;  and  art,  209. 

Life,  morality  as  the  organi- 
zation of,  Ch.  I;  versus 
mechanism,  10,  22;  moral- 
ity one  with,  19,  27;  method 
of,  23. 

Locke,  quoted,  34,  35,  62. 

Logic,  of  the  moral  appeal, 
Ch.  II;  and  the  imagination, 
69. 

Lord,  H.  G.,  quoted,  69. 

Lucretius,  quoted,  226. 


MAETERLINCK,  quoted,  71. 

Manners,  121. 

Materialism,  74^".,  84;  vari- 
eties of,  79,  81,  94,  xoi, 
no,  243. 

Mechanical  Nature,  12;  lack 
of  value  in,  9,  84;  and 
progress,  130. 

Mehander,  quoted,  88. 

Metaphysics  and  religion, 
242 /. 

Moderation,  87. 

Moore,  G.  E.,  critique  of 
egoism,  59  ff. 

Morality,  as  the  organization 
of  life,  Ch.  I;  the  dulness 
of,  i;  as  verified  truth,  7; 
its  universal  pertinence,  7  j^".; 
essential  to  life,  9,  32;  nat- 
ural genesis  of,  9  ff,\  basal 
definition  of,  13;  and  na- 
ture, 20  ff.;  and  competi- 
tion, 24  ff.',  the  logic  of, 
Ch.  II;  rational  ground  of, 
38,  40  ff.;  material  and 
formal  aspects  of,  74  ff.,  121; 
and  progress,  Ch.  IV;  and 
art,  Ch.  V;  and  aesthetic 
standards,  172  ff.;  and  re- 
ligion, Ch.  VI;  and  ideal- 
ism, 248  ff. 

Mysticism,  116,  244;  and  art, 
208. 

NATIONALISM,  99. 

Nature,  genesis  of  morality 
in,  9  ff.',  and  morality, 
20^".;  theories  of,  in  relig- 
ion, 224,  225,  234,  237, 
240. 

Newman,  J.  H.,  quoted,  220. 


266 


INDEX 


Nietsche,  his  conception  of 
morality,  i,  5,  6,  20,  29 /., 
165. 

OPTIMISM,  230,  242,  247. 
Other-worldliness,    115,    243. 
Overindulgence,  79,  81,  84  ff. 

PANLOGISM,  244. 

Pater,  quoted,   185,   188;  on 

the  aesthetic  interest,  196. 
Patience,  95. 
Pessimism,  114,  243. 
Philosophy,  of  history,  123^.; 

and  religion,  241  ff. 
Piety,  67,  68,  120,  223,  253, 

254- 

Pity,  in,  163. 

Plato,  quoted,  32;  individual- 
ism in,  37;  nationalism  in, 
100;  account  of  disinter- 
ested activity  in,  135  ff.; 
theory  of  government  in, 
148;  on  art,  190,  193,  202, 
212;  on  religion,  244. 

Pleasure,  its  relation  to  moral- 
ity, i6ff. 

Preference,  50;  the  quantita- 
tive principle  of,  S$ff.,  127. 

Progress,  moral  test  of,  Ch. 
IV,  1 27;  definition  of,  125^".; 
principles  of,  130  ff.;  by 
constructive  reform,  134^.; 
by  revolution,  139  ff. 

Prudence,  79,  81,  logical 
ground  of,  43  ff.;  limits  of, 
49,  88,  90,  91,  94;  meaning 
of,  87  ff.;  basal  character  of, 
91;  in  religion,  232. 

Purpose,  logic  of,  Sojf.J  vir- 
tue of,  95  /. 


RADICALISM,  145  ff. 

Rationality,  37,  42,  65;  and 
progress,  134,  142;  in 
government,  152. 

Reform,  134  jf. 

Religion,  79, 81;  and  good-will, 
1 13;  mysticism  in,  117;  as  an 
institution,  148;  and  prog- 
ress, 170;  moral  justifica- 
tion of,  Ch.  VI;  moral 
necessity  of,  214^.;  defini- 
tion of,  215  ff.;  quantita- 
tive tests  of,  218  ff.;  psy- 
chological study  of,  220; 
belief  in,  216,  220;  thera- 
peutic test  of,  222  ff.; 
superstitious,  232  ff.;  prim- 
itive, 233  ff.\  and  ethics, 
324/1,  233,  240,  241,  252; 
cosmological  test  of,  224, 
225,  234,  237,  240,  241, 
252;  tutelary,  237  /.;  As- 
syrian, 238;  Egyptian,  238; 
Hebrew,  227,  239;  phil- 
osophical, 241  ff.;  generic 
proof  of,  252^".  See  Piety, 
Good-will,  Worship  and 
Christianity. 

Revolution,  definition  of,  139; 
the  Christian,  140;  the 
French,  141. 

Rightness,  18.     See  Virtue. 

SATISFACTION,  n,  79,  81,  83. 

Scepticism,  4/.,  36,  108. 

Sentimentalism,  98  ff.,  and 
art,  209. 

Society,  Chap.  I,  passim,  38; 
prudential  basis  of,  89;  char- 
acter of  modern,  39,  166; 
progress  in,  126,  132;  con- 


INDEX 


267 


tinuity  of,    143;    and   the 

aesthetic  interest,  195,  an. 
Sophocles,  quoted,  102,  151. 
Sordidness,  79,  81,  94. 
Spinoza,  quoted,  35. 
Stoics,  religion  of,  245.     See 

Epictetus. 
Struggle  for  existence,  30;  its 

relation  to  morality,  21  ff.; 

its  relation  to  progress,  130. 
Superstition,  232  ff. 
Survival,  24,  131. 

TACT,  88. 

Taine,  quoted,  185. 

Taylor,  J.,  quoted,  86,  94. 

Temperance,  90. 

Thrift,  68,  87. 

Thucydides,  quoted,   156. 

Tolerance,  38,  105,  164. 

Tolstoy,  on  art,  207. 

Truth,  of  art,  205  /.;  of  re- 
ligion, 220  ff. 

Truthfulness,  96.  See  Verac- 
ity. 


Tyranny,  36,  39,  151 /. 

VALUE,  the  simpler  terms  of, 
n,  82;  definition  of  moral, 
15;  varieties  of  moral,  79, 
81. 

Veracity,  88,  96,  105. 

Vice,  varieties  of,  79,  81.  See 
Virtue,  Formalism,  and 
Materialism. 

Virtue,  the  order  of,  Ch.  Ill; 
verification  of,  73;  varie- 
ties of,  73,  79;  classifica- 
tion of,  73/.;  table  of,  81. 
See  under  particular  vir- 
tues, Prudence,  etc. 

WAR,  and  morality,  24  ff.,  30; 

the  passing  of,  28,  162;  and 

progress,  131. 

Wells,  H.  G.,  quoted,  89,  167. 
Worldliness,  79,  81,  110^". 
Worship,  122,  232,  235,  237, 

240. 

XENOPHANES,  quoted,  226. 


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